


One Summer

by LadyBArtist



Series: One Summer [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Bisexuality, Character Study, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Estrangement, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Fanart, Forgiveness, Friendship, Gay, Gay Sex, Growing Up, Heartbreak, Homophobia, Homosexuality, Iowa, Leaving Home, M/M, Original Character(s), Outer Space, Reunions, Romance, Science Fiction, Sex, Starfleet, Starfleet Academy, Starship Enterprise (Star Trek), Summer, Summer Vacation, Vulcan, Vulcan Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-02 11:47:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 39,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10943874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBArtist/pseuds/LadyBArtist
Summary: ‘Yes, I remember who first called me Captain Kirk. How could I forget?’Captain James T. Kirk is assuming his first command; a ship called Enterprise. Spock, son of Sarek, is spending his first summer vacation from the Academy tutoring a Starfleet candidate in Riverside, Iowa. Two tales, fifteen years apart, yet telling the same story: how two men became the most celebrated captain and first officer in all of Starfleet.The final chapter is now posted. Spock receives some great news and Kirk has a revelation that will affect the history of Star Trek and the whole universe forever and ever and ever.Thanks for reading. We had fun.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spock's age in this is altered from the official story line. In this story, he's only a year or so older than his friend, Jim Kirk. This story also picks up ideas from the Star Trek novel _Sarek_ by A. C. Crispin.

**NOW**

‘Ah, Captain Kirk, sit down.’

 _Captain Kirk, Captain Kirk_ … He had said that many times to himself, out loud. Not that he would have admitted to doing that. But he did it, alright. He’d stand in front of a mirror, repeating ‘Captain Kirk, Captain James T. Kirk’ on a loop to his reflection, until the boy, then later, the man staring back at him believed that it might just be possible. And now here he was, thirty-two years of age, the youngest-ever person to take command of a starship. 

A hand suddenly squeezed his heart, pressed it firm. Jim’s head answered. ‘Yes, I remember who first called me Captain Kirk. How could I forget?’

Admiral Komack’s face loomed into view, snapping Kirk back into the office. ‘So Jim, today I have the pleasure of giving you your first command.’ 

Kirk noted the scene in front of him: a desk, a framed photograph of a woman - Komack’s wife, Jim guessed; a nice, shiny nameplate. Everything about it was just as you’d expect, much like the good Admiral himself. Komack did nothing more and nothing less than what was needed of him; just enough to please the few who got him into this office and very little for anyone else. 

‘I won’t be like him,’ Kirk thought, ‘doing only what Starfleet expects of me. I’ll go above and beyond.’ He was saying this to someone, an invisible person or persons in his head; a crew perhaps, or maybe the whole damn galaxy – it didn’t matter. Whoever it was, they could be sure that he would make good on his promise a thousand times over.

‘They’ve given you a damn fine ship,’ drawled Komack. ‘The absolute best.’

Kirk flashed one of his shit-eating smirks. “They..?” Komack made it sound as though the decision had nothing to do with him. ‘I would strive to justify Starfleet’s faith in me whatever assignment I was given, sir. Which ship is it?’

Komack laced his fingers and rested his hands on his torso. 

‘The Enterprise.’

The first thing to drop was Kirk’s stomach. It fell like a massive weight through water, plunging, plunging - dragging the smirk from his lips behind it. Then all of life fell away from him. It slipped through the plane of his current existence to a place a thousand miles and a thousand days distant.

_‘Spock…’_

Komack looked up. ‘Yah, the Vulcan is second officer there. I’m sorry to say that Number One won’t be going with you. She’s all set to take her own command. Damn fine officer, Jim. Pity... So one of your first decisions will be finding her replacement. Not Spock, of course. Oh, his people make great science officers, but command? Well…’

But Kirk wasn’t listening. His mind was far away from the old man’s casual racism, heading at warp speed through space and time, to one summer fifteen years ago when the sky was so incredibly blue and…

 

**THEN**

He had never seen a sky so blue. He knew this to be true because his eidetic memory told him so. Ninety-eight instances of blue sky had been filed inside his mind within the last twelve months, considerably less than the Californian average, but entirely in keeping with San Francisco’s climate. Yes, this was the bluest sky he had ever seen. But why comment on the hue of an atmosphere? After all, its blueness merely denoted this planet’s configuration as Class M, with a majority of its surface covered with water. It did nothing to hinder or assist its function as an atmosphere. His father would say that such speculation was illogical.

Yes, Sarek would disagree with him staring at this blue, blue sky.

He continued to stare at the blue sky a while longer.

‘Spock! Spock! I’m so sorry I’m a few minutes late!’

‘You are eight minutes, twenty-four-point-three seconds late exactly, Winona,’ the Vulcan answered.

“Her face fell” – that is an expression which humans use to convey change from a positive emotional state to a negative one. Spock had read it many times in Terran literature, but nevertheless found it fascinating to actually watch it happen. Human faces really do fall when they are disappointed, appalled or sad. 

Spock had learnt enough from his first twelve months at Starfleet Academy to come back from this precarious emotional predicament, ‘But the delay gave me time to survey the environs, so I thank you for it.’

Winona sighed and smiled, her face returning to that chestnut brightness she had about her. ‘Oh! Thank god for that! I thought for a moment that I’d upset you.’

‘I am a Vulcan. I am incapable of being upset.’

Winona quit blustering and looked straight at him. ‘Yeah…right,’ she said and grabbed the smallest of his bags. ‘Our farm’s only twenty minutes walk from here. A fit, young cadet like you should have no problem keeping up with an old lady like me.’

Spock found that humans covered up their discomfort with ageing by talking as though they were older than they really were. He found it interesting: firstly, because to fear the inevitable was an exercise in futility; and secondly because to emulate the very thing you feared was an exercise in blind courage. Humans acted in ways which contradicted all pretence to logic and yet, somehow, it all seemed to work.

‘Has your mother returned to Vulcan?’

The sound of “Vulcan” coming from Winona’s lips smacked Spock straight in the face. He winced. ‘Yes, she commenced her journey two days ago.’

Winona stopped walking and turned to face him. The sun, now making its way back down the sky at three in the afternoon, highlighted the wrinkles in her face. Had Spock been an emotional boy he would have called her beautiful. But he was not emotional, so the universe could ignore the faint stirring in his pants which he also was pretending wasn’t there.

‘And how do you feel about that?’ she asked.

Spock went to say the standard, ‘I am a Vulcan, I have no feelings,’ but found that no sound came out. Instead, all he had was a tumble of thoughts in his head; shamefully disordered; a human-shaped-bag of assorted “baddies” which had been plaguing him ever since he walked out of his parents’ house a year ago. He had made this decision – to join Starfleet - and now his father, the great Ambassador Sarek of Vulcan, refused to acknowledge his existence. He had declared him _vrekasht_ or outcast, a term usually used for Vulcans who commit murder or mind-violation. The enormous sting of this had been softened somewhat by his human mother’s decision to leave Sarek and journey with Spock to her home planet to live with him, but now Amanda had decided to forgive his father and move back to Vulcan. Spock was all alone. He was not “fitting in” at the Academy, in the words of both his tutors and himself. Every day was a constant struggle to know who he was and maintain whatever that might entail. The emotions of humans scared him. He had little of the social niceties to get by and for a Vulcan - a species for whom societal mores are everything - his constantly tripping over himself in public situations was…unsettling. Right at this moment, standing on a dirt road in Riverside, Iowa, staring back at a forty-five-year-old human woman with a mess of chestnut hair and warm, pink skin which made you want to reach out and touch it, Spock had no idea why he had made the decision to enter the Academy to begin with. He was tired of saying and doing the wrong thing, tired of ignoring the appeal of human women. But most of all he was tired of missing home. 

He was tired, is all.

‘Well, it’s not much further to go now, I promise. Five more minutes and we’ll be there.’

Winona was smiling at him. It was the very same look his mother gave him when she saw that he was exasperated with being himself; with being Spock. 

He had said, ‘I am tired’, out loud and hadn’t even realised it.

Winona continued with her walk ahead of him now, but he heard her say, loudly and clearly, ‘I know he’s your father and all Spock, but he’s a complete asshat.’

Asshat – this was a new term. Obviously an expletive, given the first root word “ass”, and also the vehemence which Winona leant to its pronunciation. Asshat…asshat. Yes – he liked this word. He would never use it. Not out loud, at least. But in the hundred and fifty years or so which followed, he would sometimes think it to himself, usually with his arms crossed in front of him and one eyebrow raised towards whomsoever the “asshat” happened to be.

They were at Winona’s home now – a large, white wooden farmhouse with a veranda running all round it. It had a pleasing aspect, he noted. It looked cool in the sunlight, though this summer heat was nothing compared to Vulcan.

Vulcan. That word again.

Winona led him inside, through the hall to the rear of the house, into the kitchen. It was large and light, with a great wooden table at its centre, gingham-clad pads on the seats in red-and-white. Winona had made them, he could tell. ‘Winona’. He still could not get used to calling her that. She had told him to do so, most strongly, ‘Quit calling me Mrs Kirk! It makes me feel like I’m ninety!’ On Vulcan, to address a person by their given name is taboo. The only time Amanda ever addressed Spock in such a manner was when he was very little, and even then only within the confines of their own home. To his shame, Spock knew that Amanda addressed his father by name. Shame because he also knew what Sarek and Amanda were doing when he overheard her. 

‘My mother loves my father,’ Spock thought. But only the universe outside of Vulcan and Spock acknowledged that other great truth. Namely, that Spock’s father loved his human mother just as much in return.

Winona reappeared in the kitchen, ‘He’s not here. He must still be at judo class. Never mind, he’ll be home soon. Well – sit down, you’re making the place look untidy!’ 

Spock duly did as he was told and sat down at the table, not quite understanding how his neat and orderly appearance was adding to the general mess of Winona’s kitchen. Spock watched as she turned on the faucet and filled a glass. She placed it before him, even though he hadn’t asked for it. He sipped it because he was thirsty. Women - mothers especially - seemed to just know things. Vulcan women also had this trait. Spock found this fascinating if a little strange. The very reason he was here in this kitchen was thanks to two women knowing things; things he hadn’t told them but, nevertheless, he was experiencing.

Winona was talking again, ‘So, my son is determined to join Starfleet. He’s more than capable of it. He’s brilliant, even if I do say so myself. But, ah, he’s like me - he’s an artist! The humanities are his strong point. But math he struggles with. But he has to have it, the high-level stuff, I mean. You know how strict the Academy is…If only he could crack it, I know he’d get in. I know it.’

‘Winona,’ said Spock, ‘I am fully prepared to tutor your son. I shall do my very best to make him reach the acquired standards of the Academy over the course of the summer vacation.’

She smiled, softening a little at the edges. ‘I know you will. You’re a good boy, Spock. Anyone can see that. I only hope that one day you’ll realise it too.’

Spock knew that she knew that he would not feel comfortable being hugged. So instead they stared at each other, for just a moment.

Winona returned to washing the dishes - at least three day’s worth, Spock calculated. She resumed her chatter. ‘I think you two will get on. I mean – of course you’re very different. But James gets on with everyone. The room lights up when he enters it. There’s, ah, only a year's age difference between you. You’ve just turned nineteen, am I right? Well James is eighteen next March…’

Spock was listening but only as a secondary act. His mind was mostly focussed on that blue, blue sky staring in from the large window. That sky wasn’t a Vulcan sky. The Vulcan sky is red.

‘Vulcan. Never again will I walk under a red sky and watch as the hills behind my home turn brown, then blond, then pink in the sun. I will never again feel the heat and the sand and smell nothing but perfumed dryness all around me. I shall never see home again.’

Spock suddenly became aware that he was standing up. He had no idea why, but nevertheless, he had gotten up from his chair and was standing quite straight and quite still. He could hear Winona’s babble to his left, but that was all. Apart from that there was nothing, absolutely nothing in his head. No words, no pictures, not even a computation. His mind was empty - an impossibility for a Vulcan. Was he dead? No, he could feel his breathing. Shallow, silently-laboured, the breath of expectation. What was there?

It took that fleeting moment of illogic for the thing his eyes had seen to filter through to his brain. And now he saw it clearly. 

Spock saw a boy. A boy with brown-blond hair and skin tanned sandy-pink. A boy coloured by a familiar sun. A boy with desert eyes and the dry-heat-scent of a place sixteen light years from here.

_How?_

He was shirtless, this boy, shorter than Spock by a few inches. His arms were large, so was his torso. Top heavy, this boy - full, bursting; a glut of muscle and flesh and skin shining, ever shining. He had all the vestiges of masculinity – narrow hips, the side of his jaw a chiselled sweep. And yet he was soft, yielding, feminine. A perfect bow for a top lip, small shells for ears, the longest eyelashes of any boy of any planet anywhere in the galaxy. 

_Why?_

A boy made out of Vulcan sands was here, right in front of him. A perfect, perfect boy.

Spock didn’t say or do anything. Instead, it was the boy who ventured forward, hand outstretched, his lips and cheeks and eyes smiling all at the same time, lighting the whole room up.

‘Hello. I’m James. James T. Kirk. But you can call me Jim.’

And all the universe outside Spock and the boy realised what had just happened, but didn’t want to say it out loud. Not yet, at least.


	2. Chapter 2

**NOW**

There is nothing in Starfleet regulations to say that a captain has to take a shuttlecraft to his or her new starship. They can beam in like any normal person. But there wasn’t a captain yet who’d taken the atom-scatter route their first time out. Kirk was in no danger of breaking that perfect record. He boarded his craft, straight-backed and square shouldered like a handsome prince ready to meet his bride-to-be. The fairy tale had begun.

Lieutenant Reed lifted the Galileo up, up through the sky above San Francisco and out, out into the solar system. Silently, the Enterprise appeared over a horizon that was only in his mind; a silver beauty on an ocean black. Where her lines should be straight, she was the straightest, and where she should be curved, she was the greatest. She would be his sun-up and sun-down; a bright moon in his pale sky. And of all the wonders they would discover together, you could be sure that she would be the most wondrous of them all.

‘You fall in love at the drop of a hat, James.’

Yes, but this is one hell of a hat-drop, mom; the biggest and heaviest hat-drop ever…

An alarm sounded, telling them that it was safe to open the doors. As he stepped down, Kirk heard the ‘weeee-woooo’ of the boatswain’s call. A handsome woman stepped forward - strong of jaw, long brown hair, intelligent eyes. ‘Welcome to the Enterprise, Captain.’

‘Number One, I’m glad we have this opportunity to meet before you disembark. An interesting assignment for your first command - an all-Vulcan ship?’

‘Yes sir, the USS Intrepid. When I was a lieutenant, I spent a year at the Vulcan Science Academy. It was a hugely rewarding experience.’

They stepped into the turbolift. Kirk lifted the control, ‘Bridge. So you’re undeterred by the non-emotion of your new crew?’

Number One took a breath, semi-deep, through her nose. Her spine lengthened and her chin came up as though she was inflating. ‘No sir. In fact, I’m looking forward to it.’

Kirk smiled a little, pursing his lips. ‘I don’t doubt it.’

The turbolift doors whooshed open. His new domain curved out before him, a perfect circle. ‘You can do this,’ he told himself.

“Persist and persevere, and you will find most things that are attainable, possible…”

Kirk stopped dead. Ghosts, loud ones, haunted him each and every day of the Terran year. There was Ensign Roberts, a 23 year old he sent to his death on Epsilon Theta Twelve; Captain Garrovick, screaming for help over a communicator; a Thoran, dying in his arms – Jim hadn’t realised that its gesture meant “I surrender”. There were more. These were just the noisiest.

But the source of this voice wasn’t dead. He was very much alive, heart beating away in his side just about where a human’s liver would be, and he was standing somewhere to Kirk’s right.

‘Captain on the bridge!’ Kirk turned on his heel, right.

‘Jim! It’s so good to see you again!’ Lieutenant Commander Gary Mitchell - ship’s helmsman – was directly in front of Kirk, shaking the Captain’s hand so hard and so fast that it was in danger of falling off. ‘Hello Gary. How you finding her so far? Is she yar?’

‘Oh she’s yar, alright. She’s a beauty. You’re going to love her.’

Jim smiled, ‘I love her already. It’s, ah, whether I’m still going to “love” you, that’s the question!’ They both laughed, but in one of the old friends the laughter was a little forced. 

‘We have Mr. Sulu at the con. And this is Lieutenant Uhura - Communications.’ 

'That’s some linguistic background you have, Lieutenant.’

And this is our Science Officer, Mr. Spock.

Spock. 

Still Spock.

Spock with the ears, Spock with the black hair, Spock with those eyebrows - what’s with those? You do them like that, right? No? What, they just grow that way? But they’re so on-point. I bet you get them done. You visit some cute blonde beautician, and she leans right in and says in a honey-voice, ‘How do you like it, Spock?’ No? Hey - don’t look so worried! I’m just teasing, just teasing…

It was time to break through a fifteen-year ice floe. Kirk reached up his right hand, making two pairs of his fingers and extending out his thumb. ‘Mr. Spock…’

Spock raised his hand in reply, ‘…Captain.’

 

**THEN**

For the past three minutes, twenty-four-point-seven seconds, James had been engaged in a most fascinating exercise. He was making a series of movements with his raised right hand, his face getting redder and redder with each motion. Now he brought his left hand into the operation, using it to coax the right one into the required gesture, but to no avail.

James sighed and looked up at Spock. Spock lifted his right hand so James could see it, separating his fingers into two pairs and extending out his thumb.

‘I can’t even get that right, Spock…’ From this, Spock surmised that James was equally as frustrated with his progress through the Academy calculus textbook unfolded neatly in front of him on the kitchen table. “Persist and persevere, and you will find most things that are attainable, possible,” Spock quoted.

‘Surak?’ asked the younger boy.

‘No. Philip Stanhope, 4th Earl of Chesterfield, a British statesman from your eighteenth century.’ Spock stood up. ‘To attempt an exercise is to attain some measure of skill in it, James. Even for a human, most things are possible. Mastery of Academy-entry calculus is entirely within the capabilities of a future starship captain.’

James span round in his chair, stared straight up at Spock, ‘You think I’m going to captain a starship?’

Yes, he did. From that first afternoon a week ago, Spock knew it. And that knowledge was sitting in his stomach, eating away at him. An acid-knowing, this was; a hunch, a feeling. Illogical…Illogical! He cleared his throat. ‘Application, James, is what is necessary. Practise, hard work, and also some measure of self-belief. It is logical to strive for the highest level of attainment in one’s studies, interests and career. Project yourself into your future role, visualise it: “I am Captain James T. Kirk, in command of the USS…” and so on.’

Sarek had given him much the same speech the night before the Vulcan Science Academy examinations. ‘Visualise yourself in the Chair...’ He was even standing like him, rod-straight, hands clasped behind his back. ‘He wants what's best for you, Spock.’

What is best for me or for him, mother?

‘I am Captain Kirk, Captain James T. Kirk…’ James was now utterly lost in a romance with his future self. Spock typed a bullet-pointed list into James’s touchpad. ‘These are the problems you are to work through today.’

‘You’re not staying round?’ 

Spock side-stepped the disappointment, ‘I shall be spending the day in private meditation. I have a particularly complex equation to solve which requires solitude.’

 

Later that day, six in the evening, Winona slamming pots and pans around: ‘Spock, would you clear the table, please?’

Spock picked up James’s touchpad. A page from a book was on the screen. He recognised it: Lord Chesterfield’s Letters. Of course he recognised it. Spock was very well-read. The observation held no significance other than he had mentioned it that morning. That was all. All there was.

‘Hey - how did solving that equation go?’ 

Spock didn’t look up. He merely continued with clearing the table of books, touchpad. ‘I have yet to make much headway into it.’

‘Yeah, my sums aren’t going so well either.’

Spock’s head snapped up, saw that smile. It hit every corner in the room.

I do not need your sympathy. I do not require it. I am a Vulcan. I have no feelings. I have nothing to give you. Do you hear me?

Dinner. Spock spent it picking at bean stew and listening to the Kirks’ chatter. He noted how alike Winona and James’s speech and mannerisms were. The same, "ahs" and inflections, halting briefly…in sentences. In the oddest…places. It was a kind of poetry; a song sung by two people who thought in the same way. Both had too much in their heads and were figuring it out all at once. ‘If they were Vulcan, their minds would be orderly. They would function in a more efficient manner.’

If they were Vulcan, you would not like them as much.

A ringing noise. Winona answered, ‘Oh, hi! You got back there okay? A-huh. Hmmm. Sure, he’s here.’ Winona stepped away from the viewer. ‘Spock, honey - it’s your mom. You can take the call in the lounge if you like.’

Spock wiped his lips with his napkin and placed it softly on the table beside his bowl. ‘If you’ll excuse me…’

He closed the kitchen door behind him, yet he could still hear Winona say, ‘Don’t you even think of quizzing that boy when he gets back here.’ 

Spock snapped on the viewscreen. Amanda’s lovely face came into view, smiling. ‘Spock. How are things?’

‘Things, as you put it, are fine, thank you mother.’ 

‘And how are the studies going?’

‘They are proceeding according to expectations given the species, age and education of my student. Also, the weather seems to have some impact upon the results, but I have yet to plot its effect.’

‘I see…Your father is here. Would you like to speak to him?’

‘Does my father still consider my decision to enter the Academy one which goes against Vulcan philosophy?’

Amanda took a breath. ‘He does.’

‘Then I see no logic in pursuing a dialogue with him. Is that all, mother?’

‘Yes, that is all. Except to say, I love you.’

‘Spock out.’

Spock reappeared at the kitchen door, the evening light filling his eyes with gold. ‘Do you wish me to do the dishes before I retire?’

Winona was smiling. A really big smile. A really big, you-can-talk-to-me-if-you-need-to smile. ‘No, my son can have that singular privilege this evening. Good night, Spock.’

‘Good night Winona; James.’

Spock closed the door just slowly enough to see the boy gesture, frustrated, his hand outstretched, palm upwards in Spock’s direction. ‘Mom!’

‘James, you will respect that boy’s boundaries. He is different to us.’

 

It was 00:22 exactly. Spock was lying on his bed, one arm tucked behind his head, staring straight up at the ceiling. He had lain that way all night. The sun had set across his room, turning to pitch at approximately 22:25. It was now so dark that it was impossible to see where Spock ended and the room began. They were one, just a big black box. 

The only visuals were in his mind; a sum in white that he was chalking across the night. The Spock Equation, he called it. Its base query: Why did he exist? A human on Vulcan, a Vulcan on Earth - why did his mother and father bother to create a thing that could not be expected to live, anywhere, comfortably? The calculation was especially taxing as Spock was not sure of the result. In order to figure out the sum - the integral parts which made up Spock – it was necessary to know who Spock was. He did not. It was seemingly an equation with both sides missing and thus impossible to figure out.

‘There is no point to my existence.’

Suddenly, a light streaked across him. Spock started up from the bed. A black silhouette in the doorway – weight back on right foot, left foot slightly forward, hip bone sticking out. 

‘Spock! I need you to check something for me!’

Spock turned on his lamp. He could see the younger boy clearly now, naked except for a loose pair of shorts. Humans get hot in the most temperate of atmospheres. If James came with him to Vulcan, would he wear any clothes at all? ‘Of course. Please come in.’

James was clutching his homework. ‘Could you mark these for me?’ he asked, sitting down on the bed. Spock picked up a pen from his bedside table and proceeded to check through his sums. The younger boy shuffled closer, so close that Spock could feel his heat. ‘Well?’ he asked, eyes as wide as skies. Spock confirmed, ‘You surpassed the necessary Academy entry points by fifteen marks. This would, on average, secure you a place in the top quartile of candidates.’

A sunshine of joy rose up in the boy. ‘Yes!’ he cried, pumping his fists up in the air. The Sarek inside Spock stepped forward, ‘I must caution him against pride in his achievement. There is much still to do.’ But before he could do so, James had his hands on Spock’s skinny arms, squeezing hard. He pulled Spock into his chest, wrapping him up tight, then pushed him back. ‘You were right! You told me I just had to try, so I sat in my room all night and made myself do it. I said, “Don’t be scared of this. It is possible, therefore you can.” And I did! Thank you.’

And all this time, his hands had not left Spock. 

The boy stood up now, walked towards the door. Spock looked down at the papers, scrunched up into a ball in his trembling hands. ‘James?’

He turned - ‘Yeah?’

‘Your handwriting could be improved.’ 

‘Oh, that… well, I wrote it with my left hand.’

Spock frowned. ‘What were you doing with the other?’

James grinned. He raised his right hand, the light from the hallway outlining his fingers: two pairs in perfect separation with the right thumb extended. ‘Live long and prosper, Spock.’

He closed the door behind him. All Spock could hear was the sound of his own breath and a pulse of copper through his ears. He had part of his equation now, at least.

‘The point of my existence is to make James happy.’


	3. Chapter 3

**NOW**

‘Captain’s Log, Stardate 1214.2. We are exploring the Gamma-Cygni system. Preliminary reports indicate at least two Class M planets. Our mission is to establish the extent of civilisation in both…

‘Sir, I’ve picked up a distress signal. A ship called the Irkutsu.’

‘Put it on speaker, Lieutenant.’ 

“Aye-aye, sir.’

A voice rang around their heads, alien, high-pitched, panicked and desperate. ‘To any passing ships, please help! Engines failed, life support giving out. Running on auxiliary power but this now critical. Women and children on board!’

‘Uhura – open a hailing frequency… Irkutsu, this is the USS Enterprise, we will be with you in…’

‘In three minutes at warp factor six, sir.’

‘Thank you, Mr. Mitchell - we will be with you in three minutes.’

‘Kind sir - thank you, thank you!’

‘Mr. Spock, do you have a fix on it?’

‘Yes, Captain. A mid-sized freighter capable only of sub-light speed, basic weaponry, approximately 450 people on board.’

The Enterprise sped towards its destination. The bridge became all anticipation: Spock at his science station; Uhura acting as the only hope in the galaxy to a desperate man; Mitchell punching buttons; Sulu’s face stuck to his viewfinder and in the middle of it all, Kirk leaning on his right elbow, eyes trained on the main viewer as they hurtled forward, ever forward to a shape in the distance. Counting down three, two, one…

‘No! What are you doing here? I no understand! Please, don’t!’

Kirk span his chair round to look over to Uhura, speaking into her open channel: ‘Irkutsu, please repeat.’

‘What is it, Uhura?’ Kirk asked.

‘Sir – look!’ Mitchell shouted.

Kirk turned back towards the main viewer and watched as a vessel containing 450 souls stretched out into a thin white line, disappeared into nothing, then became a brilliant white flash. Kirk shouted, ‘Shields up! Brace for impact!’ The Enterprise shook and lurched backwards, her crew hanging on by finger and nail.

Kirk lifted Ensign Rohan up off the floor. ‘What happened? Mr. Spock?’

‘Momentarily…

Kirk walked over to Spock’s station and pointed to a twenty-four-times-magnified trail of dust trailing across the main viewer. ‘What do you make of that?’

‘Sensors indicate that the debris is the Irkutsu.’ 

‘But there’s nothing left of it, Mr. Spock. It’s been vaporised. They had no warp capability, so the engines...?’

Spock crossed his arms in front of him and looked Kirk in the eye. ‘...Hardly the type of technology to have caused such devastation even on detonation. There is, however, a further anomaly…’

Kirk interrupted, ‘…That the energy expended by that explosion was far in excess of what is contained in a ship of that type, period.’

Spock nodded, ‘Indeed. And to paraphrase Mr. Scott, one cannot, ordinarily, change the laws of physics.’

‘So, there was either a massive bomb on that ship…’

‘…Or some other energy source to cause the effect.’

Kirk felt his excitement rise. ‘Mr. Spock – sweep the area. I want you to check for other ships, all anomalies – anything that may be of relevance. In thirty minutes I want you, Mitchell and Uhura to meet me in the briefing room with a working theory on what might have caused this. In the meantime – Mitchell, plot a likely course of where the Irkutsu was headed.’

The Captain became aware that Spock was staring at him. The flush on Kirk’s cheek got brighter. ‘Anything further?’ he asked.

‘No, sir,’ the Vulcan answered and turned to his science station, hunched over once more.

‘It wasn’t meant to be like this,’ Kirk thought, ‘We were meant to be together, up here. Remember that?’

Kirk smiled and said, very gently and good-humouredly, ‘You know, you remind me of someone I once knew.’

Spock remained where he was, resolutely glaring into his viewer, his face a blue fire. ‘Understood… Jim…’

 

**THEN**

‘I am your friend. Repeat!’

‘I am your friend.’

‘My name is Jim. Say it!’

‘Understood… Jim.’

‘See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Now, all you have to do is get on this and THE NIGHT IS OURS!’ Jim raised his arms into the air over his head and laughed maniacally up to the heavens, ‘Hah-hah-hah-hah-hargh!’

Spock fingered the material of his shirt awkwardly. It had been a mentally-taxing day so far. His trials began at breakfast: ‘Hey Spock, let’s go to a place I know.’ Then came the judgments on his wardrobe. ‘What’s that? Vulcan ceremonial robes? You look like a goddamn mortuary attendant.’ Out of these insults came a visit to a mall, where he was persuaded to purchase a pair of dark blue jeans, baggy, which apparently made up for his ‘complete lack of an ass’; a blue and black plaid shirt; a loose, low-necked white tee, a pair of sneakers and also a kind of woollen hat, which Jim referred to as a ‘beanie’. Oh – and no less than three sets of tight, white underwear, which was in case Spock ‘got lucky’ - whatever that meant.

So now Spock was standing in the Kirk’s front yard, cosplaying a young man who enjoyed nights out in local bars, whilst simultaneously trying to avoid mounting a two-wheeled conveyance of the most dubious stability which Jim was determined to make him ride.

‘Spock! Get on my damn bike!’

Winona came over, wash basket in her arms, smelling of laundry and sunlight. She looked up at her alien lodger, ‘You know he won’t quit until he gets you there.’

‘Woo-hoo! Come over here, big boy!’ Jim beckoned, making kissy faces at Spock.

Spock raised an eyebrow. ‘It does seem unavoidable.’

They set off. Spock held onto the motorcycle seat in a forceful manner, his back very stiff and very straight. Every feature of the road met his body, the surface being all bumps and troughs it seemed. Jim sped up, making quick movements with the steering to avoid the worst the road had to offer. But the effect of Jim’s driving only served to knock Spock around more, his fingers digging into the seat as he tried to avoid being unseated altogether. Suddenly, a great jolt shook through the bike – an indent in the road? Spock was not sure, but the result was such that he was lifted up momentarily. He screwed his eyes shut. His heart was beating so hard it threatened to jump out of his side.

‘Maintain your control.’

Spock breathed, deliberately, slowly. His heart rate started to match the rhythm of his lungs. Peace. Peace was here. There was a smell – artificial, strong, filling his mouth, tainting his tongue. Spock resented its effect. He detected a nicer scent underneath it, sweet like almonds, natural and pleasant. 

Spock dared opened his eyes and found that he was staring right into the crevice of Jim’s right shoulder and neck, his face buried deep into warm, tanned flesh. Spock’s lean arms, bare from hand to elbow, were wrapped tightly around Jim’s hard middle. Spock loosened his grip, but in an eternity or perhaps just a second, Jim’s face turned toward Spock, the nude of his lip close against the pink of Spock’s own. ‘Don’t let go’, Jim mouthed, the words reaching Spock’s powerful hearing over the roar of the engine. ‘Don’t let go.’

Eventually, the bike slowed to a halt. ‘We’re here,’ Jim said, his face turned again to Spock’s, smiling. 

“Here” was a two-storey building, brick-built with a wooden-cladded upper, on the western edge of Riverside. A former warehouse, the English had been turned over some forty years ago to become a bar and dance venue. Everyone who had grown up in Riverside and the surrounding county had come to the English to drink on forged ID, to dance, to play pool, to fight, to sing, to make love. Jim’s mom and dad had lost their virginities – to each other, no less – in the back of the English. And whilst everyone knew that underage kids were drinking there, no one did anything about it because Riverside recognised the power of the place. It was a crucible, fired by lust and life which burned away the vestiges of youth to make men and women out of boys and girls. It was an institution; loved and protected. It was, in Jim’s own words, heaven.

‘Heaven is in need of a coat of paint’, remarked Spock as they pushed open the glass doors. He also observed the following: the left and right sides of the main room were flanked with booths. Down the middle – a number of tables, at Spock’s waist height, fashioned to look as though made out of oil drums. At the far end - a stage and dance floor. Across the walls, framed pictures: Bowie, the Beatles, the Clash, the Smiths, the Cure and more – bands and artists from Britain’s famous musical past. Low-hanging lights were slung from the ceiling, providing just enough of a glow for human eyes to see. Spock’s eyes could discern far more in the gloom, and so he noted the number of stains and spills and also a patch from last Friday where one man had puked-up the red wine he had inadvisably consumed before entering the bar. 

It was already very full, it being eight in the evening on a Friday, but Jim spotted a booth and motioned to Spock to follow him to it. The clientele stared. It could not be said that Spock was used to humans staring at him, but he had observed such behaviour as a constant, even at the Academy where aliens were commonplace. ‘There is nothing like a Vulcan to set a cat amongst the pigeons…’

‘Explain, mother.’

‘I mean, Spock, that being Vulcan means something in this universe. It means “being the smartest man or woman in the room”. We humans like to think ourselves at the very centre of everything, so your mere presence is enough to get our shackles up. You are a reminder that humanity is not the best at everything.’

‘I see…’

She had placed her hands on his arms. ‘Right now, your differences burden you. When you are older though, you will appreciate them. You will understand their power, their effects, and you will use them. You will revel in your uniqueness – as much as any Vulcan can revel, of course.’ She’d laughed, gently. ‘Growing-up is the process of becoming comfortable in your own skin. And one day, even you – my half-human, half-Vulcan boy - will accept your duality and realise just how beautiful it makes you.’

‘Hey – Matt asked what you wanted to order.’

Spock emerged from his dream. ‘Water will be fine.’

‘You want ice with that, bud?’

‘Only with the cherry coke, Matt,’ Jim answered. The waiter sauntered off, throwing a towel over his shoulder. Jim turned to Spock. ‘You okay?’

Spock linked his hands in front of him. ‘I have observed a certain…effect my presence caused on the customers. I understand, however. The non-Terran population of this town is currently one, after all.’

‘You think that people stare at you because you’re alien?’ asked Jim.

‘Yes. Why - do you have a different theory?’

‘I certainly do, and that is…’ but before Jim could continue, they found their attention drawn away. Standing in front of their table now were three females, all of similar height and build – very white, sporting the same long hair in variations on a shade of blonde. ‘Hey, Jim! Who’s your friend?’ 

‘This is my friend Spock. Spock – this is Marcy, Madeleine and May. They are in my class. I call them the ‘Three Ems’, the reasons for which I’m pretty sure your Vulcan logic can figure out.’

‘Indeed, Jim. Good evening to you.’

Middle Em spoke, ‘Oh – you’re from Vulcan! We hosted a group of exchange students from Vulcan. Do you remember that, Jim? Back in 9th grade?’

Jim looked at Spock, pursing his lips, his eyes dancing, ‘Oh yes, I remember that.’

‘But they didn’t look like you,’ ‘No…they didn’t look like you,’ the Ems murmured, utterly transfixed, it seemed, on Spock. It was most curious.

Jim put his arm around Spock, ‘Now do you understand why you get stared at?’

Spock shook his head. ‘I do not.’

‘Then we’re just gonna have to explain this further!’ Jim cried. ‘Ladies! Please join us! Ah Matt – perfect timing, my man. Take these girls’ orders.’

‘So what are you doing in Riverside?’ asked Right Em.

‘I am tutoring James over the summer vacation to prepare him for the Starfleet Academy examinations.’ Jim leaned over the table in a conspiratorial manner, thumbed towards Spock and said, ‘Spock’s in the Academy.’

‘You’re a cadet?’ exclaimed Middle Em. ‘Do you have your uniform with you?’ demanded Right Em. ‘And do you wear it when you’re on vacation, like – ever?’ asked Left Em.

Spock turned to his friend, ‘Jim, I suggested to you that I wear my uniform tonight. You replied that it was too formal and yet it seems as though it is customary to do so here?’ 

Jim covered his mouth, his body shaking, eyes watering. Humour confounded Spock at the best of times, but this was impossible. What was Jim finding so funny? Spock joined the tips of his fingers together as he so often did when computing something difficult. He found though, that his head was somewhat prickly under his “beanie’ and so removed the appendage to prevent any distraction from his mental task.

‘Can I touch your ears?’

Spock’s eyes snapped open. Middle Em was staring wide-eyed at Spock’s elfin features. 

‘Girls!’ Jim exclaimed, ‘You can’t go round touching Vulcans! They have laws against that kinda thing. You know - Surak an’ all that.’

Spock's curiosity, however, had soared to such super-fascinating levels that he found himself saying, ‘Yes you may touch my ears.’

It was now Jim’s turn to go wide-eyed. ‘Whoa! The ears have been offered up! I did not see that one coming!’

Spock shifted cautiously forward in his seat. Middle Em did likewise and reached out her left hand. Spock raised his telepathic barriers to maximum, but still felt a frisson as she touched his ear. ‘Oh wow,’ she murmured.

‘Can I try?’ asked Right Em. Spock obliged her. 

‘And me too?’ asked Left Em. Spock leaned right over the table to accommodate her wish. Perhaps it was the action of doing this - avoiding the many sticky stains and unpleasant odours emanating from the woodwork - which caused Spock’s mental barriers to lower. Whatever the cause, Spock’s guard was dropped just enough that, as Left Em stroked the tip of her middle finger down his hard pointed tip to fleshy base, he heard her mind say, very clearly and succinctly, ‘I am going to fuck this Vulcan so freakin’ hard.’

Spock started back. He turned to the one person in the world who might give him some logic to hang onto. Jim nodded his head. ‘Now he gets it.’

‘Are you telepathic also?’ demanded Spock.

‘No,’ Jim replied, ‘but I am seventeen years of age and horny. Welcome to the Hot Guy Club!’ he exclaimed, and slapped the Vulcan on the back.

Spock raised an eyebrow, ‘Fascinating.’

Thirty minutes later. Spock was deftly deflecting a request from Left Em that he tutor her privately in the comfort of her own study which also happened to be her bedroom, when he felt Jim stiffen and retreat into himself. A tall, lean blonde was walking towards them. She had a strong face - more mature than their booth companions - and wore her hair short. Jim looked down at his hands.

‘Hey Jimmy-Boy! Aren’t you a little young to be in here?’

‘Ah -you’re only just legal and besides, this is just cherry coke and water we’re drinking. Areel – this is my friend Spock. Spock – this is Areel Shaw. Spock’s at the Academy too.’

‘Oh really? What year and stream you in?’

‘I have just completed my first year. Science.’

‘Oh cool, well – I’ve just done my third year. I’m there for a total of five, though – Law.’

Another young woman joined them now. She was tall like her friend, but the opposite in build and looks. Her skin was warm and dark, like a deep honey. Her hair was very long, to her elbows, a thick mane of dark brown. She was large, - big breasts and tummy, huge hips and thighs - and all of it was poured into a pair of skinny jeans and a cropped tee, which stopped just enough above her waist so that a slight slash of brown skin showed through. On the inside of her arms, Spock saw a series of tattoos on a botanical theme; a flower garden growing on painted tendrils along her skin. 

‘Jim – you remember Lisa, right?’

‘Hey Lisa, I didn’t know you were back from New York.’

‘Yeah, came back in March…long fuckin’ story.’ Her voice was deep and soft. Spock became aware that she was staring at him, or rather, that she was returning his long-held gaze. She smiled and held out her hand. ‘Hey, I’m Lisa Sanchez.’

‘Hello. I am Spock.’

‘You staying with short-stack here?’

Jim grimaced, ‘Hey! I’m not so short. Not anymore. And Spock is staying with me. He’s helping me prepare for the Starfleet exams.’

‘Oh great!’ exclaimed Areel. ‘Does that mean I have to put up with you there as well as here?’

Jim laughed, ‘I hope so. Spock – Areel’s mom and dad own the next farm over. Areel’s sister, Carole, used to babysit the two of us.’

‘Hey Jimmy-Boy, she never babysat me! We babysat you.’

‘Ah,' Jim waved his hand, ‘there’s only four years between us. You talk like you’re my mom’s age or something.’

‘Well, whatever. It’s still nice seeing you, even if you are a pain in the ass. And Spock? Nice meeting you too. Later.’

Spock watched Jim watching Areel go. ‘Goddammit’, Jim murmured and bent his head into his glass. Spock continued to watch the women, however. He saw Lisa whispering into Areel’s ear, staring over to Spock as she did so.

Spock tapped his friend on the shoulder. ‘Jim, she’s coming back.’ 

‘What?’ Jim looked over, bewildered, then straightened himself out. ‘Hey Areel.’

‘So we were wondering, would you like to come shoot some pool with us? Unless you got other plans, that is?’

‘No, no – we have no plans, do we Spock?’

Spock looked across the table to what had actually been their plan so far. ‘If you will excuse us, ladies.’

A few minutes later in the pool room, Lisa walked up to Spock and thrust a cue into his hand. ‘So, you ever handled one of these before?’

‘No, I have not.’

She smiled and said, ‘Just watch. You’ll get the hang of it.’

Of course he would get the hang of it. He was Vulcan. It amused him when people explained simple concepts to him. They had a term for this behaviour back home. It translated roughly as “human-splaining.”

‘Didn’t realise you were babysitting tonight, Areel.’

Spock turned on his heels. A group of four men, roughly Areel’s age, had entered the pool room. They did not look civil. 

Areel retorted, quick-smart, ‘Yah Brian - your mom said the guys were looking after you tonight, so I took another job.’

The one called Brian stepped forward. ‘Well anytime you want to sit this,’ he said, grabbing his crotch. Lisa snorted, ‘Ah - go harass someone else!’

‘What’s it to you, you fat fuck?’

Spock’s copper rose. He stepped up to Brian, who was at least four inches shorter than him. ‘I believe you owe this woman an apology.’

‘I don’t owe no one nothing, you pointed-eared freak.’

Jim interjected, ‘Gentlemen, gentlemen - we don’t want any trouble! Tell you what, let’s have a wager. A game of pool. You versus the “pointed-eared freak”, as you so nicely term him. Loser leaves the bar.’

Brian hadn’t taken his eyes off Spock. They were still standing, toe-to-toe. ‘Yeah, I can go with that,’ Brian answered. ‘Acceptable,’ agreed Spock.

Brian broke the symmetry of the table, the balls scattering, using his cue like a battering ram. Spock’s precise sensibilities were offended by the lout’s wasted energy and lack of finesse. Spock stepped up to the table and spent three point-seven seconds exactly committing to a strategy. He bent over, sliding the cue back and forth in his hand, getting a feel for it. Then he began. Click – one ball in the pocket. Click – two balls in the pocket. Click – another. Each time the cue ball returned exactly to where he needed it. He moved round the table like a cat, his feet softly padding. His body, long and lean, stretched out, panther-like across the baize. Click – the fourth ball. His face was serene concentration, brown eyes - hooded and dark, mouth closed gently, breath drawing in through his long nose. Click – the fifth. He paused momentarily to remove his shirt and tie it around his waist. Click – ball six. His long, lean arms on show, the veins and sinews tensing, then relaxing as he made the movements. Click – ball seven. He moved to the top of the table now and looked up. He saw Lisa – her face flushed, lips parted, green eyes burning a path into his. And beside her, Jim - grinning, running his hands through his hair, so excited that he could barely contain himself. 

Click- ball eight. 

Spock stepped up, once more, to Brian, ‘I believe that you are leaving the bar now.’

‘You fucking alien freak. You set me up!’

‘Indeed.’

‘I’m gonna rip those ears right offa…’ Brian swung, badly. Spock dipped, expertly. Brian stumbled forward, tripped over Spock’s sneaker and fell flat on the floor. 

‘Spock!’ Lisa screamed. A wooden chair, judging by the pieces falling around him, had been smashed over his head. Spock, relatively uninjured of course, turned to the perpetrator. ‘That was rather rude,’ Spock stated, matter-of-factly. Jim came leaping in, grabbing the blond chair-smasher by the arms, spinning him around so to punch him squarely in the jaw. The youth dropped to the floor, out cold. Now the two remaining hooligans waded in. Spock and Jim stood shoulder-to-shoulder, each facing opposite sides. Jim chopped into his enemy with the side of his hand against the guy’s shoulder, then swept his feet underneath him, finishing him off with one further blow. Spock used his enemy’s momentum against him, applying his open hand to the man’s stomach, pushing all his energy down his arm so that his opponent was thrown clean to the other side of the room, crashing into furniture.

Jim turned to Spock. ‘Well, that was fun.’ Jim’s eyes suddenly widened – ‘Spock!’ 

Spock turned to see Brian lunging at him with a switchblade. Spock placed one hand on the knife-bearing wrist, twisting it so sharply so that the blade was dropped. Spock then placed his other hand on the junction between the lout’s shoulder and neck, pinching precisely. Brian’s eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed to the floor once more, for good this time.

‘What was that?!’ Jim asked.

‘The Vulcan nerve pinch,’ answered Spock.

‘Can you teach it to me?’ 

‘I could certainly try to, Jim.’

Areel came running over, ‘Lets get out of here!’ 

They headed out the back, ran round the front. Jim fired the bike up. Spock held on tight to Jim and they screeched off behind Areel’s Corvette, dust trailing into the distance. It was dark now, the lights of Riverside fading behind them. The whole of Iowa was now a star-scape, nothing but space surrounding them and Jim piloting them through it at warp-speed.

Areel’s Corvette came to a halt at the edge of the English River. Jim parked up alongside and Areel came running out. ‘Jesus! That was freakin’ amazing! The way you cleaned up in there, Spock? And that fight…? Since when did you become an action hero, short-stack?’

‘Oh, y’know, a while ago. But I don’t like to blow my own trumpet,’ said Jim.

Areel grabbed Jim’s tee and pulled him close, kissing him hard with her closed mouth for three-point-seven seconds. When she pulled away, Spock saw the stars from the sky had taken residency in Jim’s eyes. ‘Okay, we have to go now, but we will see you tomorrow at Lennie’s. Come over at five. That okay?’

Jim didn’t answer. ‘We will be there, Areel,’ Spock replied.

She ran back to her car. Lisa shouted out of the passenger window, ‘See you tomorrow, Spock.’

The girls sped off into the night, the Runaways screeching out of the stereo. Spock and Jim watched them for as long as they could, until the young women too became part of the space above their heads.

A sharp blow landed on Spock’s arm, and then another. ‘Jim, why are you hitting me?’

‘Because…because I’m so freaking happy! Spock…Spock…SPOAHK!’ Jim’s arms were round Spock now, hugging him, shoving him back, hugging him again. Spock felt dizzy, heady, as Jim brought him in for another embrace, tighter this time, his hand on the back of Spock’s neck, bringing their foreheads together. ‘Five years I have been in love with that woman. Five years, and I never once got anywhere with her. But five minutes with you around and she kisses me!’

Spock’s skin tingled. His mind was racing, a feeling creeping along his neural pathways like an excited death; a sweet rush to nothingness. But then Jim’s hand, which had been kneading the nape of Spock’s neck, was pulled away. Spock felt the feeling withdraw like ice through his veins, leaving him standing there, empty and cold once more.

Jim wandered over to the river, crouched down. ‘Spock – don’t you feel it?’

‘I am a Vulcan, I have no feelings, per se. To what do you refer?’

‘Us,’ Jim said, waving his hand into the water’s edge. Spock clenched his fists, his heart starting to pound again. Jim continued, ‘I just think that, when I’m with you, great stuff happens. Like – we are meant to be,’ Jim looked up now, pointing to the sky, ‘up there, together.’ 

Spock swallowed. ‘As we will both be serving in Starfleet someday, there is a two-point-three per cent chance that…’

Spock looked down. Jim had his hand. ‘Come here.’ Jim led him to the water’s edge, pulling Spock down to kneel beside him. ‘Look.’ Jim said, pointing at the river. The boys leant over the bank together. Spock could see long river grass, black and languid, waving in the water. A fish fed on the bottom, a silver-moon and stars wobbled on the surface. 

‘See those two guys. What do you make of them?’ Jim asked.

Spock saw two young men also reflected in the water. One was youthful-looking and handsome, so handsome that he confounded all earthly masculinity to hail from some other place; a place where angels were made. The other boy was very dark and sombre, but also handsome. He came from somewhere different; a place where fires raged and torments were inflicted. Taken singularly, these young men had their merits. But together - light and dark, day and night, love and intellect – they became something more, something brilliant, a total far exceeding the mere sum of their parts. 

Jim spoke first, ‘I feel like those two guys have been friends forever. I think they knew each other in a previous life and that they’ll know each other in their next life too.’

Jim held his right hand up, fingers splayed in the _ta’al_. 

Spock thought for a moment then brought his left hand against Jim’s, pressing it tightly. He summarised Jim's thoughts on their reflection: ‘I have been - and always shall be - your friend,' he whispered.


	4. Chapter 4

**NOW**

Mitchell and Uhura entered the briefing room, Spock bringing up the rear. ‘Well gentlemen, your theory?’

Mitchell began – ‘A bomb, sir. That much is obvious.’

‘Obvious how, exactly?’ asked Kirk. 

‘Obvious in that there is no other explanation. There was no power surge detected, no anomalies…’

‘Just because we didn’t detect something doesn’t mean that it wasn’t there.’

Kirk looked at his communications officer. ‘Go on, Uhura,’ he said, smiling.

‘Well sir, I got a feeling whilst I was talking to the captain of the _Irkutsu_ …’

‘Oh! A feeling! Hold the front page, everyone! Uhura’s got a feeling so let’s ignore the supercomputer and go with that.’

Kirk turned, slowly, and stared at Mitchell, hard. He had noticed this little habit of his from way back in their Academy days. The man liked to latch onto anything which he perceived as a weakness and tear at it with his teeth. That had kind of been okay amongst a group of cadets, but in a man cited as possible first officer on Kirk’s ship? That wasn’t so good. A first officer encourages his men, brings out the best in them. A first officer doesn’t jump all over a man when he disagrees with what they have to say. 

But the alternative?

Kirk opened his mouth to firmly and fairly rip Mitchell a new one, but found that he didn’t need to. Uhura answered: ‘As communications officer on this ship, it is my job to bridge the gap between technology and the people using it. I know what I heard, Mr Mitchell. There was fear in that man’s voice. What is more, I have excellent recall. The captain of the _Irkutsu_ asked, distinctly, “What do you want?” And then he was dead.’

Kirk looked over to Spock. Spock raised an eyebrow at the captain and held his lips together, tight. He communicated to Kirk with a glance - ‘She’s great, isn’t she?’

Kirk smiled back at his second officer. ‘Yes, she’s magnificent,’ he signalled back. Kirk’s stomach jumped with excitement at this moment with his former friend. It was time finally, Kirk sensed. Time to talk it all out.

Mitchell was quieter now but still pushing his point, ‘That remark could have been pointed at somebody with a bomb.’ 

Uhura turned to the captain, ignoring Mitchell. ‘There was something else, sir. I swear I heard laughter. A female. It happened quickly, like…a giggle.’

Spock interjected, ‘Lieutenant Uhura and I have re-examined the record tapes. There is a sound, but so faint that the computer cannot determine what it is.’

‘And there’s no way of cleaning it up?’ 

‘We have attempted to, captain’ answered Spock, ‘but the noise from the explosion is such that it masks it.’

‘Very well, gentlemen, it seems that we have two theories. The first – a bomber. The second? Something else. A presence, let us say. Either way there is a mystery to solve. We will continue on our heading to the second system, which we are assuming was the _Irkutsu’s_ destination. At the very least we have some distressing news to convey to the inhabitants of their planet. How long till we arrive, Mitchell?

‘Twenty minutes’ tops, sir.’

‘Very well, I will see you in twenty. Officers dismissed.’

Mitchell and Uhura left the room, but Spock held on. Jim got up from his chair and sat down on the table, in front of Spock. He was standing, somewhat stiffly. If he hadn’t been Vulcan, Kirk would have sworn that Spock was nervous.

Kirk took a sip of coffee. ‘Winona says hi, by the way.’

‘Ah,’ Spock replied. ‘How is your mother?’

‘Oh, she’s good. She’s been in Japan for a month teaching pottery…’ Kirk paused, looked down at his feet. ‘She didn’t just say hi. What she actually said was, “Tell Spock I love him.”’ 

Kirk looked up, nervous at the reaction he was going to get. Spock relaxed his shoulders a little and his face softened. He looked nineteen again. ‘Please tell Winona that I value her opinion of me,’ Spock replied.

‘Why don’t you tell her yourself? She’d love to get a call from you.’

Spock looked down at the floor, then up again. ‘I shall, Jim.’

‘And how is Amanda?’ Kirk asked. 

‘She is well, thank you. She recently completed a translation of Vulcan logic poetry from the earliest part of our post-Surak history. It was published five days ago.’ In spite of his Vulcan training, the pride in Spock’s voice rang out like bird song.

‘And your father?’

Spock’s face didn’t tense up. ‘Matters between my father and I remain the same.’

‘Spock?!’ It’s been fifteen years. My god!’

‘Captain, it is what it is. It is illogical to dwell on what it is not.’

‘I know Spock, but still…’ Kirk looked at the Vulcan. What was it about this guy? He was unemotional, logical - the sternest character in any room, anywhere. But of all the people in the galaxy, there was no one whom Kirk liked to converse with more. It had been the same back then and it was exactly the same now. It amazed Kirk how some things just did not change.

Kirk paused. It was time to do this. ‘Spock. I just want to say that I’m…’

The second officer interrupted, ‘Captain, if you are about to apologise, then I must state that it is unnecessary.’

Kirk protested, getting up off the table. He stood close to Spock, the closest he’d been to him for forever. He still smelt the same. Dry and musky. Nice. ‘Spock, I…’

‘Sir,’ Spock stared him in the eye, ‘we were barely out of childhood. We were young adults, finding our way. I neither hold you responsible for what happened to me, nor harbour any resentment regarding your actions. My judgement of the situation was wrong, is all. No harm has been done. I am “over it”, as the Earth saying goes.’

‘Well…I ah, guess that’s it, then?’

‘Yes sir. Unless there is anything else you require from me?’

‘No. Nothing more,’ Kirk answered, gently. 

He watched Spock walk out the room. Well, there it was. That hadn’t been so bad. Now they could get back to being normal. No more awkwardness, no more stilted conversations. They’d get on with their jobs as two adults - him as captain, Spock as second officer. Hell – they’d probably end up as friends again. Firmer friends than they ever were.

Jim walked over to the chair where Spock had been sitting mere minutes earlier. He placed his hand upon it. He could still feel the Vulcan’s heat…

So why did it hurt so damn hard when Spock told him he was “over it”, then?

 

**THEN**

17:10 on a Saturday late in July. Two young men standing on the town square in the middle of Riverside:

‘How do I look?’ 

Spock turned to his blond friend. They were already ten minutes late because Jim had spent sixteen-point-seven minutes fixing his hair, right down to actual, individual strands. “How do I look?” What did that question even mean? Was it a question of surface? - “Does my face have all its features in the standard position for a person of my species?” Was it an enquiry as to whether Jim’s considerable nervousness was on show? (The answer to that was, “Yes.”) Or did it mean, “Am I worthy of Areel Shaw?” Spock suspected it was the latter, but if that was the case, then this was especially puzzle-some. There was no way for Spock to answer such a query succinctly. How can one sum up a person’s worth in a sentence or phrase? Also – could a person’s worth really be taken in relation to another? If that was true, then where was the self? Does a person only truly exist in relation to someone else? And what was this human obsession with looks? Why spend sixteen-point-seven minutes fixing your hair back-and-forth, making your Vulcan friend distinctly uncomfortable with being late to an appointment, only to end up looking like yourself anyway? Perhaps this was the answer which Spock should give: “You look like Jim.” But would that help? There was a ten-to-one probability of that not helping, precisely because Jim doubted whether Jim was good enough to begin with.

Spock sighed inwardly. There was nothing else he could do except give the most human answer of all:

‘You look fine.’

The boys entered “Lennies” – a tattoo parlour and Lisa’s place of employment. Lisa. Spock was amenable to seeing her again. There was a certain anticipation. A rising feeling.

Lisa entered the room, wearing a short skirt which showed off her long, thick legs and a loose camisole vest top which hung off her breasts.

In Vulcan philosophy, there are three strategies for dealing with emotion. The first is control: breathe deeply; focus the mind on a single point; recite the tenets of Surak. Most day-to-day emotions may be suppressed in this way. The second is to carry out a thorough analysis of why a thing or situation causes an emotional reaction. If one can use logic to understand a feeling, one may then supress it logically. Deep-seated emotional reactions are best dealt with in this manner. The third strategy is acceptance. Surak recognised that there are some emotions which not even logic can think away. He advised that a Vulcan must, in this circumstance, allow their feelings to happen in the most logically-tempered way which they can muster. Such situations requiring the third strategy are rare, but do happen. Spock, for instance. Spock was the physical embodiment of acceptance, of a Vulcan recognising his feelings for an outworlder and acting upon them. 

As much as Spock’s head tried to obey his disciplines, his _yaitsa_ had other ideas. It was logical, therefore, to apply the second strategy. 

Spock firstly considered Lisa’s physical presence. She was pleasant to look at. To put it in Jim’s vernacular she was, "all woman". Spock had no experience of sex, and yet by looking at Lisa, Spock gained an impression of what sex must be like. Sex was warm and inviting, it was exciting, soft-yet-firm. Secondly, Spock considered Lisa’s other qualities. As the friends stood together, chatting, Spock noted Lisa’s intelligence and strength. Her personality belied a fierce loyalty to her friends and a willingness to speak up against injustice. She made Jim and Areel laugh. These facets also made his copper rise.

Yet there was something more, a deeper notion which Spock was missing. What was it? He stilled his heart, slowed his breathing and emptied his mind, but nothing came forward. It was frustrating.

‘What’s frustrating?’ Spock found himself staring into Lisa’s green eyes. ‘It is no matter,’ he said, and turned away to stare at the tattoo designs on the wall. Of particular note were ten small studies of flowers, rendered in watercolour. The choice of colour in each was interesting; shades to complement or highlight features in yellows, pinks, greens and blues. Spock could have spent an hour calculating how it all worked. ‘Lisa – these are yours?’

‘Yeah – you like?’

‘Very much so,’ he replied.

‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘these are my designs too.’ She turned over the inside of her arms so that Spock could see the flower trails leading from her wrists, over the insides of elbows, up to her biceps where they wrapped round in a band. ‘They travel down my sides too.’ She lifted her left arm above her head. Spock watched her long fingers pointing up to heaven, and then followed the trail of her arm down. With her right hand, she moved her vest aside just enough so that Spock could see the design continue down her body. The swell of her breast was a bloom, with a great, soulful eye at its middle. ‘She’s a flower goddess’, Lisa explained. She runs down my right side too.’ Spock peered closely. ‘Fascinating…’ he murmured.

Spock felt a tap on his shoulder. ‘Can you write your name on this?’ There was a notepad in Jim’s hands and a black ink pen. He held it forward like a supplicant, head bowed slightly, huge eyes pleading up to Spock. If Jim had been dressed like a novice monk, Spock would not have been surprised. 

Spock took the notepad. He was somewhat confused, but put pen to paper. ‘In Vulcan, Spock. I want to see your name written in Vulcan.’ Spock duly obliged; a single column of script, swirls and dots. Spock even included his first name, the one he told non-Vulcans that they couldn’t possibly pronounce because he didn’t want to admit to what it was.

He gave the notebook back to Jim. The younger boy stared at it for a few moments as though he was taking it all in and then held it up for Lisa to see: ‘I want this making into a tattoo.’

Spock was rooted to the spot, unable to move. A lot of things went through Spock’s head, so many that it would take a whole book to list them all. But chief amongst them was the thought that he didn’t deserve such a grand gesture.

Jim removed his sneakers and dropped his jeans, ‘On my hip, Lisa. Right there.’ Jim pointed to the front of his body, by his crotch. Jim was very comfortable with being undressed. He occupied his body well, filling out every corner of it. By contrast, Spock’s body seemed like he had some growing still to do. When he stood up it was like watching a new-born _tnair_ taking to its feet for the first time; long, spindly legs unfolding, neck reaching upward. Spock crossed his arms in front of him, covering nipples which were hidden anyway under a tee. The very thought of being naked made Spock self-conscious.

As Jim lay back on the couch, Lisa prepared to work: ‘We do things the old-fashioned way here, with proper needles, so this is gonna sting.’ Spock considered the two of them. They had much in common, physically-speaking. Both were brown-skinned - an endless summer of a boy-and-girl. Jim was round and fulsome also, bursting with sex. Personality-wise, Lisa was quieter, but both were humorous, easy-going, open with their feelings. And both had one further thing in common. Spock liked them, a lot.

‘You like them because they are not like you.’

Standing amongst the gentle teasing coming from the young women: ‘Lisa – what do you make of these guys’ bromance?’ ‘Epic, Areel. Epic,’ Spock now had his answer; the deeper notion to his emotional analysis. The reason why Lisa made his copper rise and why Jim occupied his mind was thus: Spock did not like himself.

‘Ow! Ow-ow-ow!’ Jim moaned, ‘That was sharp!’

‘Hey! I thought you were a big boy now?’ Areel retorted.

‘I am! It’s just that…’ Jim stopped. His hazel eyes stared into Spock’s own, Jim’s left hand now held in Spock’s right. ‘Does that help with the discomfort, Jim?’ Spock asked.

‘What? How are you doing that?’ 

Spock lowered his voice. ‘It is a Vulcan technique.’ He had noticed Areel and Lisa exchange what is known amongst humans as a “look” when he’d taken Jim’s hand. Spock hoped that his explanation would be sufficient to sate their curiosity, having no desire to be the Vulcan who gave away the secrets of their biology and touch telepathy. 

Spock looked down at his friend. ‘I am afraid that I cannot return this gesture. On Vulcan, skin-markings are…’

Jim interrupted, ‘Hey – I don’t expect anything from you. I just wanted to do this because, if we don’t make it to that two-point-three per cent chance…’

‘You’re all done, short-stack!’ 

Jim leapt up and bounded over to the mirror. ‘Hey! That’s great! Spock – look!’ He turned round. There was Spock’s name, carved into Jim’s skin, black and Vulcan against his sandy-brown. Just a singular thought rushed into Spock’s head this time, but it was in an ancient language he couldn’t understand.

 

The boys returned to the farm in the early hours of the morning. The house was dark, Winona fast asleep upstairs. The light from the refrigerator lit up Jim’s face as he grabbed ham and cheese and mayonnaise. ‘Spock, you tired yet? I’m not.’

‘I can last several days without sleep, Jim,’ answered Spock.

‘Really? That’s cool. If you want, we can go to my room and listen to some records. Meet me up there. I’m just gonna fix this sandwich.’

Spock ascended the stairs quietly. He opened Jim’s door, turned on a lamp and sat on the bed, surveying the scene. There was a Starfleet recruitment poster on the wall facing Spock. Above Jim’s bed, another poster – a print of Alexander the Great and Hephaestion. Both wore the flowing robes of their Hellenistic army. Alexander’s hand was reaching backwards, held firm against the stomach of his general, preventing Hephaestion from stepping into trouble. Pennants from Jim’s judo squad also hung from the walls, and three tall bookcases stood from ceiling to floor, crammed with books – Byron, Hemingway, Ellison, Steinbeck, Dickens, Isherwood and so on. This was Jim’s room, alright.

‘Are you going to see Lisa again?’ Jim asked, entering his bedroom, wiping away a smear of mayonnaise from his chin as he did so. Spock removed his fone from his pocket. There on the screen was the FedApp message he’d sent Lisa an hour earlier on exchanging numbers: ‘Spock here,’ he had posted. She had replied ‘Lisa here,’ but added a smiley-face emoji. Spock now saw that she had messaged him again, 10.02 minutes ago: ‘I really enjoyed tonight x.' Spock proceeded to type back, ‘I also found tonight stimulating…’ he paused and then added, ‘x.’ 

‘I believe I will see Lisa again, yes.’

Jim was on a chair now, reaching up to a shelf to lift down a small, square suitcase. ‘I don’t think Areel likes me.’ 

Spock placed his hands in his lap. How to proceed with this? He had to be honest – he was Vulcan, after all. But the need for honesty was more than that. Spock needed to be a good friend and good friends told each other hard truths. ‘Areel clearly displays an affection for you. She enjoys your company. I consider that it is the difference in your ages which prevents her developing a romantic attachment. Though you are a mature young man, you are still in school. Areel is at the Academy and that clearly renders her unable to develop things further.’

‘I really thought that when she kissed me…’ Jim sighed and bowed his head, his long eyelashes casting a shadow across his cheek. He sighed, ‘It sucks being a kid.’

Spock decided to change the subject: ‘You said you have something for me to listen to, Jim. Let us do that.’ Jim opened the suitcase he had lifted down. ‘Ah!’ said Spock, ‘It is a vinyl record player!’

‘Yeah – it was my mom’s. She gave it to me. You ever listened to music on vinyl?’

‘I have not had the opportunity to do so, but I read that it enhances the experience.’ Spock liked trying new things, especially to do with music, being an accomplished musician himself.

‘Do you mind if I choose the album?’ Jim asked.

‘Please do so,’ Spock entreated.

Jim walked over to his vinyl collection: three whole shelves, occupying one of his bookcases. Without hesitating, he picked one out and handed it to his friend. ‘This,’ Jim stated, ‘we are listening to this.’

Spock looked at the thin white man on the cover. ‘ _David Bowie, Station to Station_ …I must confess that I have tried to listen to him in the past, but found him hard to relate to.’

‘Well, that’s why I’m here. Let me introduce you to the first known alien visitor to Earth.’

Jim motioned to Spock to join him down on his bedroom floor. He set up the headphones – one for himself plugged straight into the record player, another for Spock joined to his own headphones. Spock folded to the floor in a single cross-legged motion. He placed the headphones to his ears, his pointed tips still showing over the top. Jim placed the vinyl on the turntable, switched it on, then gently lowered the needle. A sound came into Spock’s head, a chugging back-and-forth. Then a guitar sounded, just one single held note. A beat dropped, building until the whole band joined in. Then Bowie started singing, _“The return of the thin white duke…”_

Spock took his headphones off. ‘Jim – I do not understand this at all.’

Jim stopped the record and shuffled closer to Spock. ‘Look at Bowie on the cover. You see that? How thin he was? How ghostly? But isn’t he also,’ Jim paused for emphasis, ‘very beautiful?’ Spock nodded in agreement. Jim continued, ‘When he made this album in 1975 in Los Angeles, Bowie was incredibly famous, adored. But at the same time, he was killing himself. He was addicted to cocaine and overdosed four times.’

‘Out of this contrast – being at the top of his career and yet dying from drug addiction - Bowie created a persona called “The Thin White Duke.” The Duke came straight out of Berlin in the 1930s; inspired by the art and literature of Germany’s Weimar Republic.’ Jim closed his eyes as if transported there. ‘It was a time of great decadence and artistic freedom as Germany struggled to recover from the First World War. But there was something underneath the sex cabarets of Berlin and the arthouses, something sinister.’ Spock leaned forward – he knew the answer to this, but found that he wanted nothing more than for his friend to tell him. Jim’s eyes focused on Spock’s. ‘Fascism was coming. Hitler. Cruelty, death - the stifling of liberal expression. And all these beautiful, creative, sexually-free people in Berlin? They couldn’t stop it. Everyone played their part in allowing it to happen.’

‘This album brings together these ideas: Bowie’s fame and beauty and brilliant creative life versus a horrible drug addiction which he felt he could not escape. A death that seemed inevitable. And he uses the dying Weimar Republic as an analogy for it.’

Jim smiled, his eyes widening as if coming out of a dream. ‘Now – put your headphones back on, lie down on the floor beside me, and prepare to visit 1930s Germany and 1970s LA. You ready now?’

‘Yes,’ whispered Spock, his voice catching in his throat.

The record started again, a relentless train chugging Spock towards a terrifying future in Hitler’s Germany whilst the glamorous, thin white passengers danced on, tapping and kicking and drinking champagne over the truth that something was horribly, sickeningly wrong with the whole situation. Spock listened, enthralled as a desperately sick man sang to him, begging him to stay; to see him through the long night of his soul. 

The final track of the album hit. It was slow and gentle, guitars singing. It was utterly, utterly beautiful and completely unlike the rest of the album - a love song. Spock began to feel giddy. He closed his eyes to steady his mind, but when he opened them again, he wasn’t in Jim’s bedroom, or in 1970s Los Angeles nor 1930s Germany for that matter. Spock was back on Vulcan, in his crib, aged two-point-four years old.

_“Love me, love me, say you do,”_

Spock scrambled out of his crib, his little legs flailing. 

_“Let me fly away with you,”_

Spock was in his parent’s bedroom now. It was quite dark in there. He toddled over to their bed and stood right by it. It was far higher than he was. He reached his arms up and heard his throat sing out, ‘Mama!’

_“For my love is like the wind, and wild is the wind,”_

Amanda’s face appeared. ‘Oh! A little boy has come to visit us, father!’ Spock was lifted up high now, coming back down, her face close to his, a plump, soft cheek held tight against against his baby skin.

_“Like the leaf clings to the tree. Oh my darling, cling to me,”_

Sarek now - his face creased by sleep, hair rumpled: ‘You indulge him, Amanda. Spock? Spock? Look at me.’ Sarek pulled a stern face. 

_“For we’re like creatures of the wind, and wild is the wind,”_

‘Like this Spock. Your expression. No. No smiling. Like this,’ Sarek pulled the stern face again. Spock felt his mother shaking with silent laughter behind him. Sarek looked up from Spock, to a place above his head. ‘You are not helping, Amanda.’ But Sarek’s eyes were not stern.

_“You touch me, I hear the sound of mandolins,”_

‘It is time for my little baby _sehlat_ to get back to sleep.’ Spock turned to his mother, nestling into her bosom. He placed his little hand upon her. Spock’s eyes were drooping now. His mother’s lovely face melted away.

_“You kiss me, with your kiss my life begins,”_

Spock’s eyes opened again. He turned over. There was Sarek, eyes also open and staring, sparkling, reflecting some unknown light source. 

_“You’re spring to me, all things to me,”_

Sarek stretched out his hand now. Spock felt it – big and rough, smooth through his hair. Then Sarek placed his hand down on the pillow beside his son’s head. Spock reached out his chubby baby hand, his fingernails so tiny and so perfect. He grabbed one of his father’s fingers and held it tight.

_“Don’t you know, you’re life itself?”_

‘Argh-argh-argh!’ Spock threw his headphones off, drew his knees up to chest and wrapped his arms around them.

‘Shit, Spock!’ Jim shouted, scrambling to his friend’s side, ‘What the fuck is it? What’s wrong? Spock! SPOAHK!’

The spit was gathering in Spock’s throat and mouth, foaming, choking – his heart pounding out of his side. His stomach was wrenching in two. Jim grabbed both of Spock’s hands, un-clenched Spock’s fingers, gripped in a spasm. Jim’s quick-thinking reasoned that Spock’s telepathy might work both ways. ‘Spock!’ he cried, bringing his face to Spock’s so they were eye-to-eye. ‘Spock! Please look at me. That’s it. I’m here, friend. What is it? What’s wrong?’

Spock suddenly felt anchored. All the raw emotion which was whipping round him was now tempered by Jim, standing at the centre of Spock's storm, conducting the lightning of his emotions. Spock felt his grief release like rain. He began to sob, shake, wracks of tears pulsing through him. 

There was a creak as the door opened. ‘My god, James! What’s happening?’

Jim lifted his forehead from Spock’s. Spock couldn’t see Winona. He couldn’t move. ‘Mom, it’s okay. He’s just upset and stuff.’

‘Do we need to get a doctor?’

‘No,’ Jim said very firmly, ‘I’m all he needs, mom. Please go back to bed.’

‘Okay… Spock - I love you honey, okay?’

Spock started to speak, ‘My…father. I’ll never see…him…again…’

Jim stroked Spock’s hair back off his head. ‘You don’t know that, Spock.’

‘…Strong…emotion…can kill me.’

Jim’s face changed, like the storm that once was Spock’s was now his to suffer. But he recovered almost instantly, his sunshine breaking out again, ‘Not whilst I’m here to look after you, it won’t.’

Later, when Spock calmed down, Jim talked to him about his own father - George Samuel Kirk: how he missed him every day, how angry he was about the disease that had taken him, how he’d even been angry with his father for dying. ‘The last day I saw him, I couldn’t look him in the eye, that’s how pissed I was. Now he’s gone and I can’t look at him ever again…’

Jim wouldn’t let Spock go back to his own room. Instead, he lay Spock down in his quilt on the floor. The coverlet smelt like Jim – warm and sweet and dry. It soothed Spock. It was sometime past five when the Vulcan finally drifted off, his head being so scrambled that he couldn’t tell the time exactly. But Spock knew that he woke again briefly at 7:10.02, at which time he saw his friend sleeping soundly in a sleeping bag beside him, Jim’s hand clasped around his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _yaitsa_ another Vulcan term for balls. The standard term is _sakal_ , but Spock tells me that Vulcans also use this word, which is derived from a pre-Surak term meaning "eggs".
> 
> The part of this chapter which flashes back to Spock's childhood includes lyrics from the song _"Wild is the Wind"_ from the album _Station to Station_ by David Bowie. It is my favourite Bowie album and Jim's too. We both urge you to listen to it.


	5. Captain Kirk Fan Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm teaching myself to draw. I've been learning since October 2016. Here's a recent painting I did of the lovely James T. Kirk. Forgive my dodgy HTML skills. I'll get better at it. I learn to draw on paper and produce stuff in digital using an app called Procreate. I'm planning to make one page comic scenes of this fic. It will be a challenge! In the meantime, hope you like this.


	6. Spirk Fanart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sat down to write a new chapter this morning and thought I'd share this. This is a painting from a scene in "Shore Leave". We all know this is what they're thinking, right? ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**NOW**

Ensigns. Why did he make them so nervous? It wasn’t even a “captain thing”. Kirk had been making ensigns nervous from his very first promotion. It couldn’t be that he was unapproachable - quite the opposite. Kirk prided himself on being a democratic leader, open to suggestion, the kind of man a junior officer could speak to about anything. But none of that mattered. He still made them jumpy.

‘It’s because you’re beautiful, James. Everyone falls hopelessly in love with you the moment they see you.’

Not everyone, mom. Not everyone…

Whatever the reason, Kirk was dealing with the consequences of it right now: a cup of coffee spilt down his uniform by an over-zealous ensign-yeoman. Kirk pulled his tunic off, stepped out of his pants and stared at himself in his full-length mirror. There, peeking just above his shorts on his left hip, was a tattooed scrawl. He pulled his underwear down and watched as his reflection traced Spock’s name with its finger. 

This might sound crazy, but sometimes Kirk thought that Spock was in his head. All that time spent apart…there had been occasions when he wanted the Vulcan to be there, for sure. During those instances, Kirk (who, deep-down, was just a kid who’d watched too many Disney movies) would shut his eyes and will his old friend into appearing, ‘Come to me, buddy…’ Spock never did, of course. All Kirk got out of it was a feeling, a sense of Spock, running right through his body.

Six week’s ago in Komack’s office, Kirk had felt him there. But since then? Nothing. It was as though, whatever it was - Kirk’s head? His imagination? – had shut tighter than an Aldebran shellmouth. 

Kirk closed his eyes. ‘Come to me Spock. Come here, now.’ Honest-to-God, if Starfleet Command had been there, they’d have locked him away.

‘Captain! Spock here!’

Kirk jumped out of his skin. It was just the damn intercom. He went over to the wall and pressed the button. ‘Kirk here.’

‘Captain, your presence is needed on the bridge. We have reached the second planet. There appears to be something wrong.’

‘On my way, Mr. Spock. Kirk out.’

Kirk reached the bridge. On the main viewer, a Class-M planet hung in space, the Enterprise orbiting its night side. The planet was industrialised because its continents had large clusters of lights, indicating areas of settlement powered by electricity or some other advanced means. But those lights were flickering, on-and-off, en masse.

The captain approached his science officer. ‘I take it that light show isn’t some kind of holiday display?’ asked Kirk.

‘Indeed no, Captain. We are monitoring huge power fluctuations.’

‘Cause?’

‘We are trying to ascertain.’

‘Captain,’ interrupted Uhura, ‘I am monitoring a host of communications. Their planetary council has declared a state of emergency. Reports of earthquakes, tsunami, hurricanes and now this power drain.’

‘Hail them, Uhura.’

‘Aye-aye captain. And sir? They call their planet Niobe.’

‘Ni-oh-bay,’ Kirk repeated, pushing the syllables out, over his lips. 

‘I have them, sir.’

‘On screen.’ Kirk sat down in his chair. ‘Greetings Planet Niobe, I am Captain Kirk of the USS Enterprise, a starship of the United Federation of Planets. Our scans indicate that you are in distress. We offer our assistance.’

The image finally flickered into life. There on the screen was a small creature, about the size of human child aged ten or so. She – she? – was covered in bright pink fur, not thick or fuzzy, but nevertheless covering everything except for her head, which featured yellow hair in a style reminiscent of Andorian males. She also had antennae, thin and long. Kirk was not sure of what function they served. Her eyes were huge and blue, shiny. And she wore a pinafore dress which Kirk could only describe as pretty.

‘I am Shayan. I just assistant in Planetary Council. Everyone busy. Everyone! We…we know not what is happening.’

There had been a lot of debate over the years about the universal translator and its quirks. The development of the translator was led by Terra, but some commentators accused the technology of inherent racism; of judging other species’ languages and syntax by the standards of _homo sapiens_. The way it translated Shayan – her broken grammar - critics of the translator would take it as proof of this, ‘Her way of talking is correct for her, so just translate her talking as Terrans do. Cut out the pigeon-grammar.’ 

But right now, staring into the eyes of Shayan, Kirk couldn’t disagree more. This type of translation was needed. Niobans were childlike. On his travels through the universe, Kirk had learned something vital. Namely, that progress wasn’t only the jurisdiction of the serious and the logical and the grown-up. Innocence could make a civilisation. It had been his biggest philosophical shock. And this fact - that naiveté and joy and fun also make worlds – that’s all that stopped Kirk waking up screaming at night. He had to save these people.

‘Shayan, how long has your planet been experiencing these phenomena?’

‘Can your ship read us? I send stuff.’

Spock now – ‘Data stream incoming, Captain. Transcribing now.’

‘It appears we can read you, Shayan,’ Kirk said, smiling. He stepped over to Spock, intently bent over his monitor as usual. ‘Interesting,’ Spock said in that understated way of his. 

‘Interesting, how?’

‘Whatever is happening to Niobe began just after the _Irkutsu_ exploded.’

‘ _Irkutsu_? I hear Ear-Man say _Irkutsu_ explode?’

Jim’s attention snapped back to the viewer, ‘Yes, Shayan. I am sorry but we could not intercept them in time to save them. Was the _Irkutsu_ a Nioban ship?’

The little alien did not answer directly. Instead she turned away, her thin arms crossed in front of her, body shaking. Sam had been right about one thing - the fundamental things really did apply, and not just through the dimension of time either. They applied throughout space too, because no matter where you went in the galaxy, a cry is just a cry. This girl was sobbing. ‘My daddy…daddy on _Irkutsu_.’

‘Captain,’

Kirk turned on his heel, angry, grief-stricken. ‘Yes Spock, what is it?’

‘Captain - the core of Niobe, it is breaking down. The planet is about to explode.’

Kirk’s mind snapped into warp-speed. ‘Red alert! Scotty?’

A Scots brogue over the intercom, the surest sound in an unsure world – ‘Aye Captain?’

‘We need to beam up as many people as we can, beginning with the Nioban we are speaking to.’

‘Aye, but sir! That planet is about to blow and take all of us bloody well with it! We cannae use the transporter and raise our shields!’

‘I am well aware of that, Mr. Scott!’ shouted Kirk. ‘Now carry out my orders!’

The Captain turned to the viewer. There was a tiny thing, trembling, eyes wide and fixed on the single person in the whole universe who could save her: Kirk. ‘Shayan, we going to bring you up to our ship and as many of your people as we can in the…’

‘…one-point four minutes, sir,’

‘Thank you, Mr. Spock - in the time we have left.’ Kirk smiled the surest, most dazzling smile he could muster. It was his special smile which said, “I will fix this. I am here to save the day.”

But then Kirk felt something rip through him, a pain like he’d never experienced before. He dropped to his knees. His jaws stuck together, his body held stiff against the floor, jerking back and forth. He was vaguely aware of Mitchell falling off his chair in a spasm. Then all Kirk could see was pink and yellow like a gauze had been laid across his face, a shimmering cloth of colour, moving. Kirk stretched his arm out toward the viewscreen. He saw Shayan, her pretty little pinafore dress, her neck. Then he saw her chin, dropped. She was screaming.

And there was something else. A voice, ringing out, all around them.

A woman laughing – that was the very last thing Kirk heard.

 

**THEN**

In an Iowan bedroom, a half-Vulcan boy sat, cross-legged on a bed, his face turned west toward the English river coursing half a mile away. His mind empty, his pulse slow, he took one deep breath and then another, oxygenating his blood. He took one final breath and held onto it. He reached up then dived deep, deep, deep into his subconscious, plunging through himself, right down to his very soul.

Spock was going bond-catching. 

Swimming about, he found familiar treasures shining pearly-true. The love he had for his mother, his relationship with his father (locked away in a chest of Spock’s own making), they were there. He found others – a cousin, friends from back home, all the bonds he had made were here it seemed except one; the very bond which he had made this dive for - his bond with T’Pring. Spock searched and searched but all he found was a lifeless statue, the form of a seven-year-old girl lying on its side in the sands of forgotten-ness at the bottom of his being. The person, the woman she was now – she was not here. 

Spock floated for a moment in the waters of his soul, feeling warm currents wash around him, suspended between life and death. Spock’s bliss was interrupted by a laugh. It was a nice laugh, no cruelty in it. Spock began to swim, fast, in the direction of the laughter. But however fast he swam, the intruder swam faster. All Spock could discern was the bottom half of the creature - a great fish tail, thick and strong, golden scales reflecting, and that laughter - deep and warm.

The last of Spock’s air left his lungs. Up-up-up he moved, surfacing out of his mind, back to the bed, the bedroom, the English river and Iowa.

So, the decision was made for him. The plan for today would be going ahead.

On his way out his bedroom, Jim appeared. ‘You going out?’

‘Yes,’ Spock answered. ‘If you encounter any problems with the disingenuous integers you’re working through today, message me and I will answer as soon as it is convenient.’

‘Okay. Maybe if I finish up I could come join you. Where you headed?’

Spock stopped for a moment. ‘To Lisa’s.’

‘Ah...okay. You two have a date, is that it?’ Jim asked, smiling a little.

Was it “a date” in the conventional sense? Spock wasn’t so sure. But he was mindful of explaining everything away. How to tackle this without telling a lie? Well today was August 2nd. And that is a date in the Terran calendar so…

‘It is a date, yes.’

Jim rubbed the back of his head. ‘Well, good luck! I’ll try not to disturb you.’

‘Noted,’ Spock replied and made his way down the stairs, a little springily for an unemotional man.

‘Hey!’ 

Spock looked up. Jim was hanging over the bannister. ‘Just be yourself today. If you do that, everything will be fine.’ 

Spock nodded, just once, to indicate that he’d understood and headed out the door.

 

Spock rang the bell and spoke into the intercom, ‘Spock here.’

‘Oh, shit! Already? Okay – just give me a minute.’

Two-point-nine minutes was the actual interval between Spock announcing his arrival and Lisa opening the door. She was wearing what Spock surmised was a nightshirt. It was large – a picture of a unicorn emblazoned across her chest – and very faded. Her hair was big and bushy, falling round her like a mane and she smelt of toothpaste. ‘I thought you said you be a half-hour?’ 

‘It has been a half-hour, Lisa. A half-hour and two-point-nine minutes.’

‘Okay, okay. Point taken. Come in.’ 

She stopped him as soon as he’d crossed the threshold. ‘Spock, are you sure you want to do this?’

‘I do not ask a thing if I am not sure of it, Lisa. To do otherwise would illogical.’

‘Okay, then come with me.’ Lisa took him by the hand, wrapping her fingers around his. Her hand was warm and fleshy. She led him upstairs. Lisa opened her bedroom door. The room was flooded with light. There was a large brass bed, scarves hanging down and fairly lights strung across the headboard. All of the walls were covered with drawings. Spock noted that most were of women – naked, beautiful women in various poses, of all shapes and sizes, brilliantly rendered.

She pulled him over to the bed. ‘So – a few questions. First – do you have the implant?’ 

‘I do’, Spock said and raised his left arm up, showing three distinct ridges above his armpit. 

‘Good – and so do I,’ Lisa motioned, demonstrating her sexual health in the same way. ‘Second question: you are Vulcan. Is there some special Vulcan way of doing this that I need to understand? Do you have some anatomical differences we should discuss?’

‘There is a “special Vulcan way” as you put it. However, we do it the “regular human way” also. For today, I do not propose to try anything Vulcan. As for my anatomy, there are internal differences, but my external arrangement will seem entirely familiar to you. It may differ in colour and some other… _aesthetics_ …’

Lisa interrupted, holding her hands out in front of her, ‘Ah, don’t explain any further! I want to see it for myself. Leave it as a surprise.’ She waggled her eyebrows on the ‘surprise’. If Spock had been emotional, he would have laughed at that.

‘As you wish,’ Spock answered.

Lisa took his hand again. Spock’s fingertips tingled. She looked up at him and reached her face up. This was it. They were going to kiss. Would all his reading and watching over the past week be sufficient? He computed yes, but there was always a host of variables that one could not plan for sufficiently, that he would have to compensate for in the moment. How he would cope with that would be interesting.

But no kiss was forthcoming. Instead Lisa asked a question. ‘Why me?’

What was Lisa expecting here? He decided that she would not want to know the practical aspects, such as, ‘You exist, in this place, where I find myself.’ Instead, he concluded that Lisa wanted to hear specifics about her characteristics. Spock heard his mother’s voice in his head: ‘Because Sarek, I like to feel special. It is a human failing, true, but you married the human so _indulge me_.’

‘Because you are honest and kind. Because you are intelligent. Because you make other people laugh,’ Spock answered.

‘But you can’t join in on that – the laughter, I mean.’

‘No,’ Spock admitted, looking down, ‘but I acknowledge that bringing laughter where laughter is appreciated is a gift; something which makes the places it touches better for it.’

Suddenly Spock was jerked forward. Lisa’s hand was on his tee, pulling, his head falling. 

Kiss.

A kiss is pressure applied by the lips onto a surface, usually (though not exclusively) a body part such as another set of lips.

A kiss is warm and fleshy. A kiss is tingly.

A kiss is wet. A kiss is a tongue – tongue! – in your mouth, licking. 

A kiss is pulling away and staring and smiling and lowering your head again, pressure with your lips once more, fingers playing with the soft black hair which cuts into the back of your head.

A kiss is on the neck, just below the jaw where you shaved that morning and the skin is still sensitive and your eyes close and your nerves respond all the way down to your stomach.

A kiss is a pointed ear in a hot mouth with lick and bite which makes you go something else not logical.

A kiss is a hand against your chest pushing you back against the bed where the sheets feel cool and then that hand goes down to your thigh and your eyes are closed and there is more pressure on your lips and your – your! – hand is now on her bottom and you stroke it and it feels all big and firm and there is more pressure on your lips and now there is a tongue again in your mouth and you put your tongue in her mouth and lick her teeth and you like that why? it makes you grip her bottom and she moans and that sounds like the best thing you have ever heard in your life and so you do it again and you apply your lips to her neck and you grab her hair and…

‘How is this so far?’

Spock stopped, his flow halted. He considered for a moment. ‘Stimulating,’ he answered.

‘Well,’ said Lisa, brightly, ‘I think it’s about time we got naked, don’t you?’ 

She got up off the bed. Spock also sat up, perched on the edge. Lisa stood now, back turned to him, gripping the sides of her nightshirt, material scrunched into her fists and lifted the garment over head. Spock saw her – her heels, her calves, her thighs, her butt, her hips, her waist, back, neck and hair. Now she hooked a finger in either side of her panties and bent forward, pulling them down. He watched her swing, hair swooping, breasts falling, ass and thighs pulling apart, opening up like a flower. She came back up now, panties in left hand and dropped them to the floor. Lisa turned around, one arm lifted up and faced him. 

‘Ta-daa!’ she sang.

Spock did not move or speak. He just stared. Stared at her swell of belly and perfect little tummy button, at her breasts so large – brown-pink nipples starting to harden – and that mound between her legs.

‘Your turn now.’

Lisa sat down again on the bed, crossed her legs demurely and motioned to Spock to stand up. He did so, hesitantly, turning round so that his back faced her. ‘No, no - front view please, Mr. Spock. I want the whole picture.’

Spock turned to face her. Lisa was grinning. This was mortifying. He crossed his hands in front of him and tugged his tee over his head, hair getting pushed back and then falling roughly back into position. He folded his arms in front of his torso, self-consciously hiding his nipples.

‘Ah-pa-ba-ba-pah!’ Lisa objected, reaching up and moving his arms back down by his sides, ‘I wanna see all this,’ she said, motioning the ‘all this’ with her hands as though Spock was a landscape to be appreciated.

‘I am hairy. I know that some humans don’t like that.’

‘I don’t mind it. It looks good on you. Especially this bit,’ she traced her finger down the much thicker line of hair from his tummy button down to the top of his jeans. ‘Like a little runway to…Are all Vulcan males hairy?’

‘Generally speaking so, yes. My mother tells me that my father is “like a bear”.’ 

Lisa laughed. ‘Oh, I like her. She sounds great.’

‘She is,’ Spock admitted.

‘Well, c’mon! Don’t keep a girl waiting!’

Spock undid his belt, unbuttoned his fly and pulled his jeans down, revealing his white underwear.

‘Those are nice,’ Lisa said, voice thick. 

‘Yes – Jim suggested I buy these for when I “get lucky”.’

‘Well, today is your lucky day, Spock so…C’mon already!’

Spock took a big breath and hooked his underwear off, standing back up straight and placing his arms firmly by his side. He stared at a blank point over Lisa’s head, too embarrassed to watch her reaction.

‘Oh. My. God.’

Spock looked down. Lisa had uncrossed her legs and was staring, open-mouthed, at Spock’s penis. ‘Is there something wrong with it?’ he asked.

‘Is…is that normal for you guys?’ she asked.

‘Ah, yes - Vulcan female vaginas are, on average, three to four inches longer than human females. Their wombs have a higher, more centralised position and so our male anatomy is adapted to reach the necessary…position.’

Lisa was still staring. ‘Though,’ Spock added to fill the deafening silence, ‘I am also somewhat larger than the average Vulcan.’

‘Was that a boast I heard there?’

‘Really Lisa, my modesty…’

‘…doesn’t hold up to much, Spock. Now get over here and let me get a handle on that thing.’

She pulled him down onto the bed, kissing. Their heads reached the pillow. Lisa stared into his eyes and stroked his hair back off his head. ‘Now - if I do anything you don’t like, or you feel uncomfortable with, or you just plain need a time-out because of the emotion of it, you just tell me.’

‘I will.’

‘You ready?’ she asked and then started to kiss him again. Spock responded, touching, kissing, breathing as regular as he could muster to keep himself in check. Lisa’s hand slipped down his chest, down his tummy. She touched her fingers to his shaft. Spock almost jumped off the bed.

‘What?! Did I hurt you?’ 

‘No. Just…’

Lisa pushed him back, gently, with one hand. ‘Have you ever touched this thing yourself?’

‘In what way?’ Spock asked.

‘I mean as in masturbation.’

‘Oh,’ said Spock, ‘Vulcans don’t masturbate.’

‘What? That can’t be right. Like – not one of you, ever?’

‘Lisa, I have not conducted a survey of my fellow Vulcans to enquire into their self-love habits. But for myself, I consider that to do so would violate my commitment to non-emotion and logic.’

‘What’s not logical about masturbation? I need to have words with that Surak fella.’

‘He has been dead for some time.’

‘Yeah – because he didn’t masturbate. Shortens your lifespan. Now give me your damn hand.’ Lisa took Spock’s hand and placed it on his cock. ‘Okay – you’re gonna try this yourself and when you get used to the feeling, I’m gonna take over.’ 

‘Are you sure that this is necessary?’ asked Spock.

‘Yes, if we’re gonna stop you shooting three feet into the air every time I go down on you. Just try it. Please.’

Spock proceeded to “try”. It wasn’t so much the “trying” which pleased Spock, although that was surprisingly pleasant, it was watching Lisa’s reaction which was the best thing. At first Lisa was gently encouraging and amused. But as her observation progressed and Spock became more excited, she became excited too. Her face became serious, darker. Her lips parted, her eyes narrowed. She moved closer and closer to him, placing her thigh against his leg. She started to kiss his neck, stroke his tummy. Her encouragement which had started off so perky and friendly now was something else, much more fraught, sexual. 

‘Let me take over,’ she murmured, her hand taking over Spock’s. This felt different. He could not control this. It was fascinating. Spock was more “turned on” (as he understood the phrase was applied) by watching Lisa gain pleasure from doing this than he was by her hand. 

‘Sex is not the pleasure you receive; it is the pleasure you give.’ Spock noted in his mind for later.

‘Lisa?’ Spock gasped.

‘Yeah.’

‘I don’t think I’m going to last.’

‘That’s okay. It’s your job as a virgin to be quick.’

Lisa’s head went down. A mouth – mouth! around it now. Spock breathed and breathed and breathed and tried to control it, but still his hands gripped the sheets and still his head left the pillow. He sighed.

Lisa’s head reappeared. She kissed him. So that’s what he tasted like. ‘Can we make you orgasm now?’ Spock asked.

‘Oh, we sure can,’ she replied and lifted herself onto him. The weight of her was…amazing. Feeling someone on top of him…words could not describe it. He logged all of the sensations to run through later, but he knew that he would like her to stay there. She held him tight and then lifted herself up a little. Spock saw her breast and instinctively reached up to kiss it. She started to moan so he, taking that cue, took more of her inside his mouth. He looked up. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was slack. She was in his power, a weak sliver of sex-need. 

If Spock had been asked at that very moment by the Vulcan Science Academy to write a paper about coitus, it would have consisted of this single statement:

_**“Sex is brilliant.”** _

But then Lisa lifted off him and lay beside him. ‘I’m gonna show you how I make myself orgasm so that you can repeat it.’ Spock repositioned himself to watch, sitting between Lisa’s thighs. She opened herself up and started. Spock saw the slickness gather and swell then gush, her fingers working, her face softening, turning pink, then getting tighter. Out of curiosity more than anything, he placed a finger just inside her entrance, not far up at all. Her body became rigid. ‘Oh yes! Fuck yes!’ she cried. ‘Don’t stop! Keep doing that!’ He did as he was told, serenely, and watched as her fingers got faster and her body got stiffer and his finger was squeezed-squeezed-squeezed so tight. Lisa’s back lifted. ‘Ah! Ah! Ah!’ she cried. 

Spock moved his head between her legs and licked, but Lisa pulled him up. ‘It’s too sensitive right now. We can try that another day. There’s just one thing I want.’ She shifted underneath him, pelvis-to-pelvis. ‘You ready?’ she asked. He nodded. She placed her hand between their legs and guided him in. Spock’s head immediately went for the pillow. He felt like he had gotten vertigo. Giddy. Warm. What?

‘Are you okay?’ Lisa whispered. Spock responded by lifting his hips up and then back down, slowly, and then did the same again. Lisa’s hands found his ass. Spock was utterly lost. In-out, in-out – that was all he could manage in this world at this moment. In-out, in-out…

‘Ah.’

‘Was that a noise I heard? A lil’ Vulcan noise?’

‘Ah.’

In-out, in-out. He held her shoulders, lifted his head and placed his forehead against hers. He opened his eyes. ‘Is this…sufficient?’ he gasped.

‘Yes,’ she breathed. 

In-out, in-out.

‘Lisa, I am afraid it is happening already. Do you wish me to hold off?’

‘Are you kidding me?’ she said and raked her fingernails down his back to his skinny ass. ‘Fuck me, Spock!’

It really was happening. There was no stopping it. He’d applied all the emotional breaks he could, but truth was he wanted it to happen and she wanted it to happen too. He buried his face into her hair. There was a shudder. Not quite yet. He lifted his head. Now it was here. He shut his eyes. ‘Ah.’

Spock’s whole universe melted away. His head hit the pillow once more. His hands still gripped her shoulders even though his body had relaxed.

‘Spock? Are you dead?’

A muffled voice came out, ‘No, I am not dead.’ He rolled over. Lisa propped herself up on her elbow, smiled and kissed him. 

He stared into her green eyes. She truly was lovely. ‘Are you disappointed?’ he asked.

‘What?!’ she cried. ‘Why would you think that?’

‘Because I did not, by myself, make you orgasm. Also, I was rather quick.’ 

Lisa held a finger up. ‘Okay – first – I don’t usually orgasm through penetration alone. A lot of girls don’t. We need clitoral stimulation. However, that doesn’t mean that we don’t enjoy being penetrated.’ She held two fingers up, ‘Two – I already said that inexperience and getting real excited meant you weren’t going to last. I was prepared for this.’ Three fingers she held up now, ‘And thirdly, there is nothing worse than some guy pumping into you for hours on end. It’s as boring as fuck. You ever seen a porn film?’

‘I have watched a few over the last week to prepare for today.’

‘And what did you think of them?’

‘It looked…sore.’

‘Exactly!’ she cried, waving her arm in the air. ‘Besides, I get to say “I fucked a Vulcan”. There’s probably a medal for managing to do that.’ She shifted closer to him, ‘Seriously, that was fun and nice. You have potential. And also, your cock is enormous.’ Lisa stretched the word out ‘eeeenoooorrrrmooooous’ and held her arms out in front of her to demonstrate her perception of Spock’s length. Then she kissed him, deep on the mouth. He responded.

‘I’m starving! Let’s go eat!’ she cried, brightly.

An hour later and Lisa and Spock were sitting at a table in Rosie’s, choosing what to eat. Rosie’s – the café in Riverside which his mother had used as her big seller on getting him to agree to this summer vacation. ‘They serve vegan food, so you’ll even have somewhere to go out! Besides, Winona hasn’t seen you since you were tiny. She’s always asking after you. And it would be a great help to her. Imagine what a positive role model you will be for James – a successful Academy candidate…’ 

Spock wondered how much of a positive role model his mother would have considered him to be last night when he dared Jim to snort chocolate malt up his nose. Jim: Spock hadn’t spoken to him since leaving the house that morning. Were his studies going okay? Spock proceeded to text his friend as Lisa made her order: ‘Spock here.’

Moments later a reply: ‘I know it’s you, idiot. Your name is on my fone. What’s up?’

‘Do you have any questions from your studies so far?’

‘Yes lots.’

‘Please proceed to ask.’

‘No – there’s too many to text. Can you come back? I kinda need you here.’

Spock looked up. ‘Lisa – would you mind if I headed back to the farm after this? James is struggling with his studies.’

‘Yeah, no problem.’

Spock typed a reply. ‘I am having brunch with Lisa now. I shall return home straight after.’

Jim started typing straightaway. ‘Great. See you soon.’

Spock put his fone into his pocket and looked up. Lisa was staring at him. ‘Well, this summer has turned out way better than I expected…’

Spock found that this was how people started conversations when they had something difficult to recount. Although humans displayed all the emotions, they found it no easier to deal with than Vulcans. Fascinating… ‘Please explain,’ he asked.

‘Oh you know - that age-old story of girl goes to New York, girl meets gorgeous girl, girl moves in with gorgeous girl, gorgeous girl turns out to be sociopath…just that.’

‘You dated a sociopath?’ asked Spock.

‘I moved in with someone who I thought was a good person, but she turned out to be emotionally abusive. I didn’t really realise what was going on…She made out that I was the crazy one and I ended up believing her. Dad called one day to see how I was getting on and I just broke down. He came straightaway, helped me pack up my things, brought me back home…’

‘I see.’ 

‘…But trouble is, I sank all my money into setting up a tattoo business with her. Dad’s hired a lawyer to try and get it back, but in the meantime I’m stuck here with nothing.’

Few were the times when Spock wished he was human. Mostly, he found himself willing his humanity away; hoping that his impulses, foibles and superstitions would die a dignified death. But this was one of those rare times where he wanted to pass for human. To reach across the table and take her hand in his; to look into her eyes and have her see something other than blank logic; for this, Spock would have sacrificed his ears, his heart and his green blood.

But it is illogical to want to be something which you are not. He was Spock and Spock was all he would ever be. And whilst he was unsure whether that was ever going to be good enough for anyone (including himself), being Spock was all he had to offer. And so he said:

‘You do not have nothing. Quite the opposite. You have a supportive parent and a good friend in Areel. You have considerable talent in your chosen field. You have intelligence, grace and wit. Therefore, your statement is illogical.’

Lisa pondered for a moment, ‘Yeah, I guess so.’

Spock felt something rise inside him. The thought of expressing it – it felt naughty, like at any moment his father would appear and march him away. So he said it:

‘And you also have me…’

Lisa’s expression rose like the morning sun cast across Jim’s head, fast asleep against the kitchen table after an all-nighter on Spock’s sums.

‘You mean that?’

‘I don’t say things which I do not mean. To do so would be illogical…’ ‘and also human,’, he thought to himself.

‘Best friends forever?’ she enquired, reaching her hand across the table to shake his.

‘I cannot promise that. I do not know what the future entails. However, I do wish to remain in your sphere for however long time and experience permits.’

‘That’s good enough for me, Spock.’

Spock shook Lisa’s hand. Perhaps being Spock was good enough, good enough for one person at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Lisa is bisexual and has had a bad experience with a girlfriend. However, this is not a plot to say that being bisexual is bad. Lisa is happily married in the 'now' portion of our story to a beautiful woman called Grace. So, there you go.
> 
> The 'Sam" which Kirk refers to in his story is the 'Sam' of 'Casablanca'. Kirk paraphrases the lyrics from 'As Time Goes By'. Kirk loves watching old movies. He makes Spock watch them too. Spock has to promise to shut up until the end, where he is allowed to ask all the questions he likes and to also comment about how 'illogical' he finds them. But the truth is, Spock loves them too.
> 
> Spock and I would like to apologise to the Vulcan Science Academy for our paper "Sex is brilliant: coitus and the nineteen year-old male". We really did think we were onto a winner with that one. Next year, we'll submit a revised version which has more than three words to it.


	8. Chapter 8

**NOW**

‘Captain…? Jim?’

Ship…Crew…Ship…Crew...

Kirk forced his eyes wide open and grabbed the blue tunic in front of him, pulling it forward. ‘Ship?! Crew?!’ he gasped.

‘Minor casualties only but almost all of the crew is injured. The ship is operational but we only have auxiliary power. The probe shorted out a number of systems.’

Probe? Was that what Spock thought that thing was? No, there was something else in his science officer’s mind, but now wasn’t the time to quiz him about that. 

‘Spock..?’

Kirk didn’t have to explain what he needed. Silently and serenely, Spock hooked an arm underneath the captain and lifted him to his feet. It was all Kirk could do not to cry out in pain. His bones felt like glass, shattering each time he moved. Kirk controlled his breath - flaring his nostrils and clamping his lips together to supress his reactions. ‘Mitchell, status report!’

‘We are twenty thousand klicks away from our original position, Captain.’

‘We were blasted that far?’

‘Negative sir,’ interjected Sulu. ‘The blast from Niobe would have obliterated us, not pushed us out.’

‘That is correct, Captain. It appears that we were simply lifted clear of the blast area.’

Kirk spun in his chair, firstly to look at Spock as he explained that they had been “lifted clear”, and then back to Sulu who, helpfully or not, was miming the “lifting clear”. 

‘What?’ protested Kirk. ‘That doesn’t make sense. Is Niobe still..?’

Sulu interrupted, ‘No sir, it’s definitely gone. And everyone on Niobe with it.’

Kirk gripped the arms of his chair but it was to no avail. He still couldn’t stop himself from punching the intercom panel and exclaiming, ‘Damn!’ The bridge fell silent, with only the clicks and whirrs of the instruments aural clues to it being a starship. 

Kirk came out of his grief like a newly-sharpened knife, ‘Mitchell – plot a course to the second system. Estimate our time to get there at warp factor seven. Scotty?’

Scotty’s voice over the intercom, ‘Aye, Captain?’

‘How soon till we can get her up to warp seven?’

‘You must be jokin’! She’s barely got impulse power and there’s nar’ a’ circuit board that’s not been burned to buggery!’

Kirk leaned over to one side, ‘Chief Engineer Scott - do they, or do they not, call you “The Miracle Worker”?’

An audible sigh from the other end of the com: ‘That they do.’

‘Well, by God - that’s what I’m expecting! Work me a miracle, mister. Report back in twenty minutes.’

‘Aye, an maybe I’ll rustle up a five loaves and two wee fishes to feed the whole damn crew with whilst ah’m at it! Scott out.’

Kirk grinned but that was soon replaced by the grim realisation of what they were facing. He took a moment to survey the damage. The bridge was a mess of smoke and charred equipment: Spock passing tools to Uhura as she carried out electrical repairs; Sulu likewise fixing his station. There was only Mitchell who wasn’t engaged in the clean-up. The man whom Starfleet had pegged for first officer was instead complaining about the absence of maintenance staff on the bridge. 

‘Lieutenant Uhura, perhaps when you’re finished fixing your workstation you could show Mr. Mitchell how to work a soldering iron?’ Kirk asked, pithily.

Mitchell spun in his seat to look at the captain, ‘Hey, Jim - I didn’t mean anything by it.’

‘Look around. You think anyone’s got the time to drop what they’re doing and come help you? We’ve got a crisis, and if we’re to stop that second system from going nova, we all need to chip in. Got that?’

Mitchell stared, but Kirk didn’t give a shit and Mitchell knew it. ‘I got it.’

‘Captain, you think that second system’s in trouble?’ asked Sulu.

‘That’s my hunch, Mr Sulu. But either way we’re not leaving it to chance. We’ll head there at godspeed as soon as Scotty can give it to us.’

Kirk lifted himself out of his seat, gingerly. He needed some headspace and a hypo spray of something quick and fabulous. He was in absolute agony. If he could just get to his quarters, he’d be fine. ‘I’ll be in the briefing room,’ he lied.

The lift doors opened and Kirk stepped in. Before they could close again, a long, lithe arm clad in blue forced them open. Spock stepped in, lifted the control and stated, resolutely, ‘Deck five.’ The lights of the passing floors started to flash by. Kirk felt his face drop and his legs buckle. He fell forward into Spock’s already open arms. ‘Where does it hurt?’ asked Spock.

‘Everywhere,’ mumbled Kirk into Spock’s chest. 

The lift stopped. ‘Captain, we have to move into the corridor now. Are you able to walk a little way?’

Kirk nodded, his cheek rubbing against Spock’s tunic. There was a rock-hard surface under that vest. Spock pushed the captain back onto his feet. Kirk looked up into Spock’s brown eyes, ‘Showtime,’ he said, in a manner far brighter than he felt at that moment.

They strode into the corridor. The captain shifted his weight onto his left foot so that his broken gait looked like a confident roll. Though his hair was mussed-up a little and there was a gash on the side of his mouth, Kirk looked every inch the space hero. He was almost fooling himself with that routine today. 

They made it to Kirk’s quarters. Bang – the space hero was gone, replaced by a trembling wreck. Spock swept underneath Kirk, gathering him into his arms like a baby and carried him over to his bed. ‘Do you have any oil, Captain?’ 

‘There’s muscle rub on my dresser if that’s what you mean.’ 

‘Very good. Would you please remove your uniform?’

‘I bet you say that to all the boys,’ Kirk joked.

Spock loomed back into view, bottle in hand. ‘Only to the boys who can promote me,’ he retorted.

‘Ah-ha-ha-hah-hah-urgh-ow.’ Kirk giggled, clutching his left side. ‘Ah – please don’t make me laugh. It hurts.’ The captain made a half-attempt to sit up, but couldn’t. Instead, Spock had to remove his boots and socks and help him take off his pants and tunic. Kirk lay down on his front and Spock commenced with rubbing him down. The oil felt cool at first but soon warmed up. Spock knew exactly where and how to manipulate, digging his fingers in hard where the knots lay, smoothing and soothing where Kirk’s nerves jangled. ‘You have no broken bones, but your muscles are in shock.’ Touch telepathy was good for some things.

Kirk moved his head so that he could look up at his science officer. Spock’s face was held concentration toward the task at hand. God, he was beautiful. ‘On the bridge, you told me that thing was a probe but you didn’t mean it. What didn’t you want to say in front of the crew?’ 

Spock stopped his ministrations and looked down at his hands. Kirk turned over so that he was lying on his back, propped up on his elbows. ‘C’mon Spock - spill.’

‘It was a woman, Captain.’

‘A woman?’

‘Yes - a being quite unlike us but nevertheless identifying as female.’

‘Anything else?’

‘She was powerful, incorporeal and angry - very angry. One might even say, heartbroken.’

The _heartbroken_ hung in the air between the two of them. Kirk didn’t want to accept the word, didn’t want to hear it. Only words like _laughter_ and _friendship_ should have existed in that room. Heartbreak had no right to be there, with all the terrible memories it brought back.

Kirk stared at Spock. Just above his left eye there was a mighty bruise, turning bright yellow thanks to his Vulcan biology. A line of green blood streaked below it. It looked like a lily - a beautiful, yellow lily. Kirk lifted his hand up and touched it. For a moment, the briefest of the all-too-brief times, Kirk watched as Spock closed his eyes and moved his head closer to Kirk’s fingers. But then the spell was broken. Spock snapped out of his reverie and looked down at the captain’s hip. ‘I thought you would have removed that long ago.’

‘What?’ Kirk thought, ‘My tattoo?’ A sad, dejected, bitter bile, fifteen years in the making, swelled up inside him. ‘You lousy son-of-a-bitch,’ he murmured, ‘you haven’t forgiven me and you damn well never will.’ 

Spock stood up. Kirk couldn’t look at him. If he had, he would’ve burst into tears. He hadn’t cried since he was seventeen years of age and he’d be damned if he was going to do it again to the very same person he’d sobbed to all those years ago.

‘I will be going now Captain, if that is all?’

Kirk, quietly: ‘Yes, that’s all.’

Spock had taken a couple of steps when the captain thought of something: ‘One thing, Mr. Spock. Did the entity communicate to you?’

‘Yes,’ answered the science officer.

‘What did it say?’

Spock stopped still and turned to face Kirk, ‘It said, “Love is dead”. '

 

**THEN**

It was hot. Winona said it felt like the world was burning up. Each day seemed hotter than the last. It wasn’t Vulcan hot, nowhere near. But that didn’t matter. This wasn’t Vulcan, it was Iowa, and in Iowa this heat meant something. Spock didn’t understand its meaning but there was something ominous about it, something he didn’t like. It got under his collar. It made him want to take all of his clothes off and scream. 

It was illogical.

He was illogical.

Meditating was getting harder and harder; his disciplines spilt like sand through his fingers. ‘Everything leaves you, Spock. Everything and everyone runs away and leaves you alone.’ 

But he didn’t say any of this to the one person who needed to hear it. Instead he said:

‘Lisa had a girlfriend.’

Jim wiped a wrench against his jeans; a thick, black line smeared against the light-blue. The sight of it disturbed Spock. ‘Yeah. You don’t have a problem with that, though?’

‘Oh no, not at all. I merely made the observation.’ That was a lie. Well, not a lie exactly because he wasn’t good with lying. But Spock didn’t understand why he had raised this subject. Illogical, again.

The sun was so fierce in the sky now that Jim’s hair – that crest of his which fell back across his head - seemed white. ‘Does Vulcan have gay people?’ Jim asked.

‘At the last census, three-point-six per cent of Vulcans identified as gay. A further one-point-two per cent identified as queer, and nought-point-five per cent of Vulcans are transgender.’

‘I see. Well, you guys have that “Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations” motto which helps, I guess.’

Spock didn’t comment. 

Jim smiled. ‘What was that meant to say?’

‘Explain?’ asked Spock.

Jim smiled, ‘The eyebrow raise. What don’t you like about IDIC?’

It was appalling how easily Jim read each of his expressions. Was this a symptom of Spock’s malaise? An emotional display betrayed across his face? Or was it just Jim, being Jim? That superpower of his breaking through Vulcan defences? ‘I merely meant that IDIC is a noble concept which we use freely in our relations with outworlders. But when it comes to applying it to ourselves, the philosophy is neglected somewhat.’

Immediately, Spock regretted his speech. This was a significant tin-based receptacle containing _lumbricus terrestris_ which he had opened. Jim would not let this one go.

‘Explain,’ Jim asked, putting his tools down and stepping out from behind his motorcycle.

Whenever Spock had to speak about something which made him uncomfortable, he would clasp his hands behind his back and turn away from the other person. He was doing it now. He knew he was doing it, and knowing that made him even more self-conscious. ‘Taking my own experience as a half-human, I have encountered…difficulties.’

Almonds and heat entered Spock’s nose. He didn’t need to turn round to know that Jim was standing right behind him. ‘Difficulties?’

‘Yes, difficulties.’

‘You mean, like bullying?’

Spock winced. ‘Yes.’

‘Well, there’s one way to solve that. We get on a transport to Vulcan and I go punch their lights out.’

Spock turned to his friend. ‘Why do you think I learnt this?’ he said, and mimed pinching his fingers together. 

Spock sat down on the ground. He was so tired. Jim joined him, arms behind, legs spread out like a white-blonde sheet laid out in the sun. ‘So, gay Vulcans have a rough time of it?’

‘It is a complex issue. It doesn’t so much come down to a problem with sexuality per se, but rather a particularly Vulcan problem with sex and love in general.’ On saying that word – love – Spock hesitated. It was the first time he had said it out loud to anyone other than his mother. It felt strange – especially so because it was James, though that was a strange thought in itself. ‘Vulcan philosophy is one of controlling emotions. The ultimate aim is to be rid of if altogether. A few brilliant minds attain this…’ Perhaps the _Kolinahr_ was the answer for Spock’s current dilemma? ‘…But of course, we can be as non-emotional as we are able…,’

‘…But you still need to populate your species.’

‘Yes. At a very basic level, the need to breed is there. It is logical.’

‘But it gets complicated because,’ Jim paused here, ‘love exists. It is real.’

‘It is a strong emotion,’ admitted Spock.

‘It makes you act crazy,’ added Jim.

‘It can make you choose a partner who is not a logical choice…,’

‘…someone who is your exact opposite, like the day to your night, the smile to your frown.’

‘But no matter how much you try to resist; to be disciplined…’ continued Spock,

‘…you fall in love anyway,’ said Jim.

‘Yes,’ Spock murmured. ‘Love is the logic-killer. But we get round this on Vulcan in a few ways. Some families arrange marriages based on solid, logical choices. Other marriages are entered into at the behest of both partners, but the logic of it is always emphasised: intellectual compatibility, genetics, companionship being a proven factor in longevity of life. But the biological imperative to profligate the species is always paramount because love should not be a factor.’

‘So when a male Vulcan chooses to marry another male, or a female Vulcan chooses to marry a female, that “biological imperative” can’t be carried through naturally. So being gay on Vulcan is...’

‘It is tantamount to admitting that you are in love with your partner,’ admitted Spock.

‘On Vulcan, being gay is being in love…’ Spock knew Jim's thoughts exactly: those great big eyes of his, staring into the horizon now, were fixated on some gay Vulcan couple straight out of his imagination.

‘For some conservatives within our society – that is the way they think. Such deduction is not very logical but bigotry is still a force on Vulcan, unfortunately.’

‘Spock,’ said Jim, now broken out of his romantic spell, ‘if you don’t mind me saying, it seems to me that all of you are lying to yourselves. I mean, surely all Vulcans in good relationships are in love? Take you, for instance,’ he said, placing his hand on Spock's arm, ‘if you’re not the creation of pure love then I don’t know what is.’

Spock’s stomach lurched. ‘That isn’t the only reason for prejudice against gay people on Vulcan. There is a very old and specific reason for some Vulcans feeling particularly uncomfortable about male/male relationships. Are you familiar with the Vulcan word _t’hy’la?’_

‘No – can’t say that came up in my Vulcan language class.’

‘It means friend, brother, lover. It can be applied as any of those three, or more frequently – all those three together. For instance, if you have a very strong acquaintance with someone, your “BFF” as you humans would term it, you might address them as “ _T’hy’la_.”’

‘So, you’re my _t’hy’la_?’ asked Jim.

Spock’s mind went blank momentarily but he recovered and continued. ‘The origin of the word is so old it pre-dates Surak’s birth, back to the Dark Ages when Vulcan was violent. _T’hy’la_ was actually the name of a band of male warriors, the finest fighting team in our history. If a warrior managed to gain entry into the group, he was expected to fall in love with another team member. The philosophy of the _T’hy’la_ was that the warriors who made love the best also fought the best; that the intimacy of their bond made them a formidable fighting team. A _T’hy’la_ would literally kill to save his beloved.’

‘That is so fucking cool,’ said Jim, grinning.

Spock sighed, ‘I expected you to take a romantic view of such barbarism, Jim. However, the word survived Surak. Perhaps we Vulcans also are guilty of a certain amount of romanticism.’

‘But bigot Vulcans take male-on-male love as being a throwback to this violent time?’

‘Yes.’

Jim scratched his head. ‘Well, at least you’ve got one less thing to worry about.’

Spock squinted, ‘Explain.’

‘Just that – it makes things simpler that you’re not gay, what with you seeing Lisa and all. I mean, you’ve got enough to deal with - being half-human and your dad not talking to you. Being gay on top of that? Wow. That’d be a lot of shit to deal with, Spock.’

‘Yes,’ said Spock. He rubbed his eyes. He really was tired. Suddenly he felt Jim’s arms around him. ‘What…what are you doing?’

‘I am giving you a hug.’ Jim’s chin rested on Spock’s shoulder as he spooned him. ‘Is it making you uncomfortable?’

‘Yes,’ said Spock.

‘Do you want me to stop?’ asked Jim.

‘No,’ said Spock.

Jim moved so that his legs stretched out either side of his friend, who sat, rather stiffly, in-between. ‘See? I knew this was what you needed,’ he said and pulled Spock back to rest against his chest.

‘I am somewhat fatigued,’ admitted Spock. 

‘Then we can just stay here like this until you feel better.’

‘That might be quite a long time,’ Spock said quietly.

A tighter squeeze now, ‘I’ll be here for as long as it takes, Spock.’

Spock wanted to relax, he really did. He would have liked nothing more than the almighty knot in his belly to unravel, but not even Jim’s superpower could manage to loosen it. It was the knot that told him that everyone left him eventually. Jim would too, one day. Not that he was to blame. The fault was with Spock. The things he said, the things he did, his very existence – all of it was designed to keep him alone. Spock was the love-killer.

‘Love is dead’, Spock whispered and drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spock, Jim and I have used 'gay' here as a shorthand term to cover all non-heterosexual relationships. We acknowledge that sexuality is a rainbow though. Also, the Vulcan census records lower levels of LGBTQ people than in the US and UK say, but Spock tells me that when he was a teenager, Vulcans were less likely to admit to their real preferences. That has changed now, partly due to the high-profile relationship he had with Kirk on board the Enterprise. They became icons of the Vulcan LGBTQ movement, something which the boys are fiercely proud of.


	9. Chapter 9

**NOW**

If you asked the captain of the Enterprise if he had any regrets, he would tell you no. This is because he is James T. Kirk, Space-Adventurer: fearless, always winning, never doubting. Assured in your hero, you would take your leave of him, not bothering to glance back and see the pain in his eyes as he realises that there is one no-win scenario in his life. 

That day, when Spock raised the subject of Lisa’s girlfriend? He was trying to tell you that he was gay. And you knew that. But instead of just saying to him, “Hey friend – it’s okay, you can tell me,” you turned it into some kind of game; a game where only you knew the rules. That was unfair. Spock was always going to lose in that situation. You should have just been honest, Jim. 

Spock was right – he should have got rid of that tattoo long ago. He didn’t deserve to wear it.

‘Captain? I said we’re coming up on the Gamma Cygni Two now.’

Kirk realised that Sulu was staring at him. ‘Ah – thank you, Mr. Sulu,’ he acknowledged. ‘Mr. Spock, what do our scanners indicate?’

Spock turned to face him. No emotion – that was Spock alright. But no matter how little Spock emoted, it was humanity’s great hobby to project some kind of feeling upon that blank canvas. Kirk was doing that right now; sensing upset and hurt where really there was none to be seen. 

‘Sensors indicate the same planet-wide disturbance as we saw on Niobe. There also appears to be a great energy force in place.’

‘Red alert! Everyone to their stations.’

The Enterprise rushed forward. From this distance, the sphere looked lovely – a shimmering pink and yellow. But as they got closer, Kirk realised that that the colour wasn’t the planet’s atmosphere. It was the entity, the very same thing which had attacked Kirk. His hunch had been right. It was encircling Gamma Cygni Two, covering it entirely.

Kirk leapt over to Spock. ‘Any ideas?’ 

‘One,’ admitted Spock, ‘although I am hesitant to try it.’

‘Why?’ 

‘Because it may result in the entity’s destruction. The opportunity to study it for science…’

‘…is doubtless a worthwhile cause, Mr. Spock, but this thing is responsible for the death of billions.’

‘We do not know that for certain yet,’ Spock protested.

Despite his “being able to talk a computer to death”, Kirk just couldn’t get round Spock’s logic. And that was because Spock was right; they didn’t know much of anything at the moment. The only facts they had were that Spock could talk to the thing and that it was female. ‘Well, can we adapt your idea?’

‘I believe so. From our interaction with it, I have ascertained that the entity is electrically charged. I could send Scott plans to modify our tractor beam to attract it; to draw its attention away from the planet rather than short it out completely? However, there is some considerable risk to us, Jim.’

‘Understood, Spock. Do it.’

Ten minutes later and Scotty had delivered his second miracle of the day. ‘Are we ready, Mr. Spock?’

‘Affirmative, Captain.’

‘Uhura, open hailing frequencies. We need to warn that planet of our intentions.’

‘I’m afraid that is impossible, sir,’ Uhura stated, ‘that thing is blocking all communication channels, both between us and the planet and across Gamma Cygni Two itself.’

‘Never mind, we’ll have to proceed as planned. In the meantime, Lieutenant – keep trying.’

‘Aye sir.’

‘Alright – let’s begin.’

On the main viewer, Kirk watched the Enterprise shoot out a modified tractor beam into the upper atmosphere of Gamma Cygni Two. The planet continued to shimmer for a few seconds, then stopped, turning dark pink and orange for a minute or so. Slowly, like lifting a veil, the planet’s true face was revealed – a peaceful ball of blue, white and green not unlike Earth. Spock’s plan was working. 

Kirk turned to his science officer, but there was a sudden loud shout from the helm. Sulu’s station had exploded, burning his hands badly. ‘Medical team to the bridge!’ shouted Kirk. 

She was here. 

One-by-one, the stations on the bridge blew up in showers of sparks and flames. Kirk turned in a slow circle, watching, waiting. She was coming for him. He didn’t know how he knew that, but nevertheless, he knew it. He braced himself. A voice – female, angry, broken - screamed in his head, ‘You! You are just the same as him! Die!’ 

Kirk crossed his arms in front of his face. This was it. But nothing happened. He lowered his defences. ‘Spock!’

There, in front of him, Spock sat at his science station, utterly rigid. The thing was all around him, his narrow brown eyes fixated on some unknown point in the distance, the bruise on his head seeping green. 

Kirk leapt over. He tried to touch Spock but got an almighty electric shock for his efforts. Uhura came to assist. ‘Stay back, Lieutenant!’ he warned.

Kirk dropped to his knees at the feet of his science officer. ‘Sir – what’s he doing?’ Uhura asked.

‘He…he’s talking to it.’

Kirk didn’t take his eyes away from Spock. Maybe if he stayed there, his friend would eventually see the light of his eyes and follow him home. 

Why Spock, why? Don’t you know how much Starfleet has invested in you? I bet you do, right down to the point-something-something of a credit. You stubborn, stubborn man - don’t you realise that it’s the captain’s duty to sacrifice himself for the good of the ship? Stop trying to die, Spock. Stop…

Suddenly, a voice rang out; female, angry, broken. ‘…So I ask you, Spock - how can love die? True love should never end, should it?’

The voice stopped. The shimmer enveloping Spock now moved abruptly away. ‘What…? What am I hearing?’ the voice asked.

Kirk suddenly realised that the voice wasn’t in his head, but was instead transmitting out of the computer. Bewildered, he looked over to Uhura. ‘I rigged the universal translator, sir. Took a bet that maybe it could talk to that thing as well.’

‘Uhura – you’re a genius!’ Kirk jumped up and threw himself around Spock as though to act as a human shield. Spock slumped in his arms like a dead weight.

‘Sir!’ cried Mitchell. ‘The thing – it’s gone back to the planet.’

But right at that moment, Kirk didn’t care. All that mattered for him was the thump pulsing under his left hand at two hundred-and-twenty-four beats per minute.

 

**THEN**

Spock was in the hallway about to leave when Winona sidled up to him. ‘Why don’t you ask your girlfriend to stay here tonight?’

Spock raised an eyebrow.

‘Oh, don’t think I haven’t noticed you coming back here with straw in your hair and grass stains on the seat of your pants.’ Winona said and nudged him.

‘Well, when Lisa’s father is home we are forced to…improvise.’ 

‘I get it. I was young once, you know. Ask her here. I’ll make dinner.’

‘Thank you, Winona.’

An hour later, the door chimed. There was Lisa, all brown smiling loveliness. ‘Hey,’ she said as she entered and caressed his fingers. Spock responded in turn. It had been logical to teach her this. After all, he wasn’t exactly struck on “PDAs” as human’s termed it. And also, as Lisa remarked, ‘Vulcan kissing is hot as hell.’

Jim now: ‘Hi, Lisa. Is Areel with you?’

‘I’m sorry Jim, she can’t make it tonight.’

‘Oh, that’s okay,’ said Jim. Lisa made a “well that was awkward face” to Spock as they followed him into the kitchen. 

Winona’s hair was a tangle of wild curls, fuzzed-up from the heat of the oven, dishes spread all over the table. ‘Ah! You didn’t have to go to so much trouble!’ protested Lisa.

‘Are you kidding? You’re our honoured guest. They probably give out medals to girls who bang Vulcans.’ 

‘I asked Spock and apparently that’s not a thing,’ laughed Lisa.

Winona now: ‘Is he blushing? I’m sure I can see a little green on those killer cheekbones.’ 

Spock wasn’t blushing of course, but he did get flushed cheeks in certain situations. And Lisa knew exactly the shade of green he turned at those times.

Jim came to the table with a dish in his hand. ‘Okay everyone – this is all of it. Tuck in!’

They sat around for an hour and-a-half, eating, laughing, talking, joking, drinking. Spock had a special task for the night, one Lisa had set for him. She’d asked him to live in the moment; to focus on the evening and not on what tomorrow might bring.

When Spock told Lisa about his anxieties, Lisa didn’t accuse him of being illogical. All she said was, ‘Sometimes, you just need to feel sad.’

‘I am a Vulcan. I am incapable of feeling sad.’

‘You just keep telling yourself that, Spock, and maybe one day you’ll actually believe it,’ she’d replied. 

Winona on her third glass of wine now: ‘Y’know, what between Amanda and you, Lisa, I think I’m gonna take a trip to Vulcan. How would you like a step-daddy with pointed ears, James?’

Jim held out his hands in front of him. ‘Spock, look…what you have started. Could you imagine this woman with a Vulcan husband?’

Spock raised his eyebrow, ‘My father has a two acquaintances on the Vulcan Xenobiology board whom I am sure would find Winona a fascinating study.’

‘See, James! I’m “fascinating” so there,’ cried Winona, and stuck her tongue out at her son. James tried to grab it with his fingers and then commenced with tickling her. 

Suddenly the videophone rang out. Jim leapt up to answer, ‘Hey Spock, it’s your mom.’ 

The room went quiet. ‘I will take the call next door.’

Spock went into Winona’s study just off the kitchen, books piled high over her bookcases, desk and floor. ‘Hello mother. Are you well?’

Amanda certainly looked well. Vulcan suited her. From a distance, Amanda resembled a cool, white marble statue, pristine in the shimmering heat. But up close, it became clear that her coolness was in appearance only. Amanda was, in fact, the warmest thing on the warmest of all planets. This was the reason why all Vulcans fell hopelessly in love with her, even though they’d never like to admit it. She was the Surak-killer; the Sarek-slayer. She was also Spock’s mother. What did that make him?

‘I am good, thank you Spock. And you look much improved since last we spoke. Have you and James formed a friendship? I do hope so.’

Spock was well aware that Amanda knew exactly the extent of his friendship with Jim. Her old college roommate was, doubtless, keeping her informed of everything. ‘Jim and I have formed a mutually-beneficial acquaintance. I am confident also that he will succeed in his Academy application.’

‘Splendid!’ Audible laughter drifted in from the kitchen. ‘I’m sorry Spock, did I disturb your party tonight? Do you have friends over?’

Did Amanda know absolutely everything, though?

‘My girlfriend has joined us for dinner.’

Amanda was first very still. Then a wide smile broke across her features. She didn’t know everything, after all. 

‘What is she called? Do you have a picture of her?’

‘Her name is Lisa Sanchez. Please allow me to look through my memory bank for a suitable photograph.’

Spock scrolled through his fone. He had several of them, but the one he sent Amanda was a surprising choice even to himself. It was one they had taken in bed: Spock behind Lisa, sheets pulled up, but you could tell they were naked. Lisa smiling sweetly, holding her fone in her outstretched arms, Spock’s chin nestled between Lisa’s shoulder and neck. 

Amanda received it. At first she seemed flustered by the intimacy, but soon recovered. ‘Oh. Oh! She is lovely. I am so happy for you. You – you will bring her to Vulcan? I should like to meet her.’

Spock was pleased. He wanted to give his mother this; proof that he was “normal” after all. ‘If our coupling proceeds along its current course, then you will be meeting her, yes.’

‘Oh Spock…’ Amanda paused, ‘I will go now and let you get back to your friends. But I do love you.’

' _Tishau k'odu, ma'ma._ ' 

In the lounge now: ‘Spock! Come watch The Twilight Zone with us! They put it all on Fedflix last week. You’ll like it.’ 

Winona and James were laid back on the couch, Winona’s arms wrapped around her son. They were like this all the time – hugging, touching. Spock had noted that Jim was markedly unlike other human males in this respect, especially for his age. He had no qualms about showing affection for his mother, or toward others for that matter. Observing mother and son was like sitting in front of a TV show broadcast in an untranslatable language; Spock could watch but would never truly follow what was happening.

Spock sat, stiff and upright, as separately as he could manage beside Lisa on the small sofa. The programme began, framed by Winona and Jim’s running commentary:

‘Wow – smoking. I can’t believe people…used to do that. And on a plane too?’ 

‘Oh yeah, honey. Everyone was dyin’ of cancer or a heart attack by the age of fifty-five back then.’

Spock caught Lisa smiling at him out of the corner of her eye. He glanced at her. 

‘Hey – he’s a good-lookin’ guy. What’s that actor’s name?’

‘I’m not sure. Bill-something, I think.’

There was a tingle now, blood creeping across Spock’s hand, up his arm, to his face in a bloom. Lisa was stroking his hand.

‘Marry me, good lookin! I can see that thing – your wife can’t.’

Spock’s breath stopped in his throat, eyes fixed on the screen, his fingers stroking in return. On the edge of his vision he saw Lisa uncross her legs.

‘How can the stewardess have missed it? It’s right there on the wing of the plane! Is she blind?’

‘The suspense is killing me.’

Lisa’s hand trembling, Spock’s eyes closing. Building, building now – a thousand tiny tremors across his body.

‘Oh my god! He opened the goddamn door! Aaahhh!’

Spock stood up, abruptly. ‘Winona, we will be retiring now. I require _rest_.’

‘Oh sure, honey. See you lovebirds in the morning.’ 

Spock pointedly ignored Jim making quotation marks with his fingers and silently mouthing the word “rest” to him, grinning.

 

Upstairs now: the glow of a lamp and the song of a lone bird up way past its bedtime. The room was still hot from the fierce sunshine of the day.

‘This room’s real nice…’ 

Why was it that they both evidently felt awkward? After all, they had done this fourteen times over the past three weeks. And surely their exchange downstairs was sufficient introduction for what was to come?

‘Yes, it has a most agreeable aspect.’

But still, there was an unmistakeable flutter in his side. 

Her hand wrapped round his now. ‘Have you ever smiled?’

That was an unexpected query. He answered it, nonetheless: ‘Yes. When I was very young. In fact, I was considered to be an inveterate grinner. My father was most concerned about it. Sometimes,’ Spock bringing his face close to Lisa’s now, ‘I could smile as much as four times in a day.’

‘Can you smile for me now? I mean – don’t do it if it makes you feel bad. Only… I kinda wanna see it, just once.’

Spock let go of her hand. He closed his eyes, and placed his arms by his side. He breathed in and out, breathed in again. The muscles in his face relaxed and all his blood pooled in his feet. His mind was pristine – empty – unthinking. Spock was no longer really there.

Deep within himself, Spock swam down, down, down to his soul-depths. There was the chest containing the bond with his father. Spock skimmed his hands across the sandy surface. There was a rock. He took it and smashed open the padlock. Spock reached into the box and pulled out a treasure: a memory from just over a year ago, the day he received his entry examination marks from the Vulcan Science Academy. Spock achieved the highest-ever test result in the Academy’s history. 

Sarek stood in front of Spock now, head down, the letter held tightly in both of his hands. There were no words. Just staring and silence.

Spock resurfaced, still holding onto the memory of the last time he made his father happy. His face muscles tensed, creasing and lifting the corners of his mouth. His lips parted, air caressing his teeth. His eyes narrowed, his pupils shone and danced.

Spock was smiling.

Lisa’s green eyes fixed on him, hands either side of his face, bringing him close into her. ‘Fuck me,’ she murmured.

 

Fifteen-point-he-wasn’t-sure minutes later, Spock’s head was engaged in-between Lisa’s legs. He was exceedingly fond of this particular laboratory. The fastest he’d managed to make her come was twenty-two point six seconds. The slowest? Eighteen minutes. Again, he had failed to note the exact time of the slowest period, but this was due to the extreme conditions of that particular test (he had come at the same time as her). 

Tonight was all slowness and deliberation. Spock was still trying to figure out how they came to these decisions. It just seemed to happen.

Now that Spock had some relevant experience, he was able to make a few key observations about the orgasm process. For instance - sex is all moisture – sweat on a human’s skin, lubrication from a Vulcan’s sex glands, saliva in both species' mouths. Also, sex reveals everything. Not in that obvious way of shedding one’s clothing. Rather, it strips down the layers of a person’s psyche to show their core: their neediness and desires, their willingness to give as well as to receive. Spock could not imagine giving himself to someone whose ambition and thoughts centred only on themselves. The resulting sex could only be empty and disappointing. 

Most of all, Spock had discovered that sex was a journey; two people walking through a landscape which could be intimidating, fraught with disappointment. The destination could not be guaranteed. You had to trust the other person, allow them to take your hand and lead you through it. Spock was doing that right at this moment with his mouth down upon Lisa’s clitoris, his hands clawing into her ass, a finger now, teasing her entrance. This was Spock saying to Lisa, ‘Come with me. I can get you to the other side of this.’

Her hands were on his head now. This was his favourite bit. She was at the point of no return, about to tip over the edge. Spock enjoyed driving Lisa crazy, delirious, perhaps because he couldn’t experience these things himself. He could live vicariously through her hands on his head pushing it down, fingernails raking through his hair, her hips pushing-pushing upwards, her back arching and head turning sideways into the pillow as…

‘Spock!’

He snaked up along her body now. She forced him over onto his back and sat on top of him, thighs either side of his hip bones which jutted out. She lifted up, then back, down, then forward.

Inside. He was inside.

Moving now. He watched her rocking on top of him. He felt her too. 

‘Hey green-cheeks,’ she murmured.

‘Hello,’ he whispered, his fingers digging into her hips, pushing her down harder.

Slow, slow, slow, the two of them walking through this strange world together; a world of whispers and exclamations and building feelings which seemingly for no reason suddenly stop only to come back again, with much greater force.

‘Ah!’

‘Baby – you okay?’

Spock motioned to her. Lisa lifted her hand so he could take it in his. This was what they did when things got too much for him – they linked telepathically, Lisa anchoring his emotions in hers. He stabilised. 

Lisa grabbed his other hand and began to caress it. Now this – this was Spock’s sweet spot. Humans are all about the fuck, but this? A Vulcan hand-job beats all. Lisa was ecstatic, riding the reverberation of Spock’s building orgasm. An image came into Spock’s head. A woman – red-haired, slim, white-skinned, blue-eyed. This was something new for him. He had never imagined someone…No, wait. This was not his fantasy. This was Lisa’s, transmitted by her touch to him. Spock tried to shut the image off not wishing to encroach on Lisa’s privacy, but a big part of him wanted to remain there and watch. 

Spock suddenly felt another hand wrap around his, pulling him away. Before he realised what was happening, he was diving into his soul waters. Spock was terrified. He tried to resurface, but the hand pulled him down further. It jerked him forward now. Spock was locked into an embrace, tight-lipped and hard. The terror of drowning was now replaced by the force of Spock’s own feelings – passion and lust. Spock couldn’t control himself. He lifted his hands, locking his fingers into soft, golden hair and placing the other onto the small of a back – warm and hard. Spock pushed his tongue between those tight lips which now opened, soft and smiling. Spock was enveloping, pushing, probing. ‘Don’t stop, don’t stop,’ his mind begged. 

Pushing, licking, groping, moaning; the water flowing around them. Now there was a new feeling, something like he had experienced before only much, much stronger. Spock was rushing, rushing towards an end. His whole body was focussed on a single aim: to die. He wanted to explode into nothingness, to wrench his being from all existence to become a perfect, round zero. Harder and deeper he kissed, frantic, holding on desperately, giving everything of himself and taking all that the other had to offer. They were dying together – – consuming, eating each other up, spending each other’s worth until nothing, nothing, nothing was left.

‘Ah! Ah! AAAAAHHHHH!’ Spock’s hips bucked up off the mattress. His head dug into the pillow. His hands gripped Lisa’s tight. ‘Ahhhh, ahhh, ahhhh!’ Again and again he came, wave after wave of feelings crashing over him, ‘Ahhhh, ahh, ah, a…’ 

Death.

When he came to, Lisa was cradling him. He could taste copper in his mouth – blood seeping from his nose over his lip. He sat up. 

Lisa was ashen-faced. She burst into tears. Spock placed his arm around her. ‘Lisa – it is alright.’

‘I thought I’d killed you.’

‘No, no. I am fine - just a little fatigued and I have a headache.’

‘Spock, this is all fucked-up.’

‘It is just that we are not bonded fully. The strength of what I am feeling…’

Lisa placed her hands on his arms. ‘Spock…?’

‘Yes?’

She sighed. ‘…Forget it.’ She turned away, wiped her face then asked, ‘Do you need something? Some pain meds? A glass of water?’

‘A glass of water, please.’

A moment later, Lisa returned with a glass. Spock sipped as Lisa massaged his head. They lay down and Spock wrapped himself around her as they drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Talking a computer to death": this is actually an entry on Kirk's CV, under 'Other Skills and Abilities'.
> 
> The family are watching episode 'Nightmare at 20,000 Feet' from the Twilight Zone; an episode notable for the fact that it stars one William Shatner, an actor who bears more than a passing resemblance to James T. Kirk.
> 
> "Fedflix" and "fone": in the century 23 and beyond, separate technology firms no longer exist. Instead, technology is produced for the progress and good of all. Profit is not longer a motivation. Instead, funding is made available to all worthy applicants and teams. Then - if successful - the technology is made for every Federation member to further the galaxy's progress towards a bright, shining tomorrow. Hence, citizens no longer have to subscribe to hundreds of streaming services to get the TV they want. All the TV that exists from every Federation planet is available on Fedflix, alongside detailed historical notes for older programmes such as Terra's Twilight Zone. Fun, pirate streams still exist like 'StarTube' which transmits TV from Qo'noS and - later - Romulus, Cardassia and so on. In fact, its the sharing of TV, film and song which does more to bring about galactic peace than any political act by the Federation and others, for it is through the sharing of the things we love that we truly come to understand each other.
> 
>  _Tishau k'odu, ma'ma._ \- _I care for thee, mother_. No, your eyes are not deceiving you. There is a Vulcan word which sounds like 'mamma'. Also 'poppa'. This is more than coincidence. Bipedal species were seeded throughout the galaxy and along with that, certain key words in their languages. Variations of 'mom and pop' are found in languages throughout the galaxy. This, and the fandom for 'Breaking Bad' are the things which bind together the whole universe. Amen to that.


	10. Chapter 10

**NOW**

‘We’ve nearly lost all power. This attack was far worse than the last.’

‘Tell me we have the transporters at least.’

‘No, we certainly do not. We’re patching together enough of the auxiliary to maintain life support and that’s it. If that planet blows like the previous one, we’re sitting ducks.’

There it was, straight out of the Chief Engineer’s mouth: The Enterprise was in deep trouble. Jim wiped the perspiration beaded round his lips with his right hand. ‘I need to be able to take a shuttlecraft down to it. Can we at least manage that?’

‘Aye, but sir…!’

‘I know Scotty, but it’s the only way. When you’re finished up here, get down to the shuttlebay to prepare for launch.’

Kirk looked over to Spock. He was worried about him. Spock was conscious but he looked shaken, for him. Nurse Chapel bent over him, administering to the wound on his head. She seemed concerned too…

Was Spock dating her? Had Kirk’s treatment of him back then really had that much of an effect?

What the hell was he saying? Did the world revolve around James T. Kirk and his dazzling smile? Who was to say what sexuality Spock adhered to right now? To think that he had any effect over Spock’s choice of partner smacked of self-centredness. But there was a part of him that wanted to have an effect still, as though tormenting Spock over one summer hadn’t quite been enough. 

‘Kelso reporting for duty, sir.’

Lee Kelso’s strawberry-blond brightness snapped Kirk out of his fugue state. Kirk liked Lieutenant Kelso. A bright cadet with top grades, he had joined the Enterprise straight from the Academy. He reminded Kirk of himself all those years ago, only in a good way. He even looked a little like him, though not so prone to Jim’s cherubic chubbiness. ‘Kelso - take the helm. Sulu’s in the sickbay…’

But Kelso wasn’t listening. Instead, his attention was fixed on Jim’s right. ‘Jesus! Are you okay?’ Kelso stepped around Kirk to stand in front of Spock.

‘I am quite well, Lieutenant. The wound is largely superficial.’

‘Don’t let him get away with going back on duty at less than one hundred per cent, Christine. You know what he’s like.’

‘I know, Lee. He’s a terrible patient.’

‘He can’t be any worse a patient than he is a second officer.’

Chapel laughed. Spock raised his eyebrow.

‘Lieutenant Kelso?’ said Kirk, hand outstretched to indicate that he should be at the helm.

‘Aye, sir,’ said Kelso sheepishly, duly taking his position beside Mitchell.

Kirk sat on the railing in front of Spock and Chapel. ‘Spock – is that thing responsible for the destruction of the _Irkutsu_ and Niobe?’

Spock answered quietly, ‘I believe so, yes.’

‘…I have to get down to that planet. Scotty’s going to make sure that we can at least get the shuttlebay doors to open. I have to communicate with her.’

‘Sir,’ Spock began, ‘the logical course of action would be for me to go. After all, I am the person she speaks to. I can reason with her.’

‘And I’m the highest-qualified pilot to steer us through it. This situation, this ship – they are my responsibility.’

The both stared at each other, Chapel quietly fiddling with a hypo spray, trying to make out that she wasn’t there. Kirk spoke first, softly, ‘Spock, after what you’ve been through, I can’t expect you to take this on…’

‘…but it is necessary for the safety of this ship; to save the billions living on that planet below.’

They stared at each other a moment longer. Both of them it was to be, then.

‘Mitchell! Take the con!’ Kirk straightened his tunic. He turned back to Spock, ‘As soon as Nurse Chapel is done with you, meet me down in the shuttlebay.’

‘Understood, Captain.’

Kirk stepped into the turbolift, the doors closing. Was that the last time he’d see the bridge? The lift stopped, Kirk stepped out and punched a com panel. ‘Scotty, is the shuttlebay prepared?’

‘Aye Captain. Take the Galileo. She’s lucky.’

‘You don’t believe in superstition do you, Scotty?’

‘I believe in anything that’ll get us out of this alive, sir. What’s the plan anyhow?’

‘Spock and I are going to go reason with a woman.’

‘Well in that case you’ll need all the luck you can get. Scott out.’

Kirk chuckled and entered the shuttlebay. He stepped into the Galileo and began to check her down. He’d faced death many times but never felt like he might actually die. This time was different. This time he’d be with Spock. All those years ago he’d decided that when he died, it would be with Spock by his side, both of them fighting their way through unbeatable odds, striving to be the very best, to not shame themselves in the other’s eyes. Kirk and Spock: _T’hy’la_.

Speaking of, where had Spock gotten to?

Kirk left the shuttlecraft and strode out into the main body of the ship. He froze. 

Some way down the corridor, Spock was standing, arms wrapped around the waist of Kelso, long fingers digging into the Lieutenant’s ass. Kelso’s arms were flung over Spock’s shoulders, a hand running through that black pelt on the Vulcan’s head. They were kissing like it was the last time they’d ever see each other, eyes closed, exchanging words here and there which Kirk couldn’t hear, only imagine.

Kirk quietly stepped back into the shuttlebay and to the Galileo. A few moments later, Spock joined him.

‘Countdown to lift-off. Enterprise, this is the Galileo requesting authorisation to disembark.’

Scotty now: ‘Understood Galileo. Shuttlebay depressurising. Doors opening. And gentlemen? Godspeed.’

Kirk steered the tiny craft out into the white-studded blackness. He fixed his eyes on the planet looming into view. ‘So, how long have you been seeing Kelso?’

Spock didn’t flinch. ‘Lee initially approached me two weeks and four days after joining the Enterprise. We have been together ever since.’

‘An ensign asking out a lieutenant commander? That’s bold.’

‘I was a lieutenant then. I gained a promotion a year into our relationship.’

Kirk turned to his science officer. Spock really was beautiful. Kirk could understand why people fell so hard for him. ‘I promise I’ll do my very best to return you to him.’

Spock’s eyes narrowed but he remained staring ahead. ‘That would be agreeable,’ he stated. And then a moment later, ‘and I know you will try your best, Jim.’

An alarm sounded. ‘Brace yourself, Spock. We’re about to enter that thing.’

The Galileo began to buck and roll, Kirk swiftly and deftly compensating. The shuttle was flooded with a golden light. There were uglier places to die, that was for sure. 

Suddenly the universal translator sparked into life. ‘What is that I’m hearing?’ asked Kirk.

‘She is crying,’ answered Spock, matter-of-factly.

A very different alarm sounded. The Galileo was losing altitude rapidly. Kirk and Spock worked quickly, seamlessly, but it was to no avail. She was taking a dive. They were going to crash.

‘Spock?’

‘Yes, Jim.’

‘I’m not sure we’re going to make it,’ admitted Kirk.

‘There is no fault in that, Captain. We tried our best. And at least,’ Spock paused, ‘we are together…’

 

**THEN**

It was, in the words of his friend, “too damn hot to work”. Spock had been at pains to point out that Vulcan was at least 10 degrees Celsius hotter, but that was lost on Jim, as were Spock’s protestations that Vulcans didn’t do leisure time. ‘You are coming with me down to the river and we shall have a picnic and read a book and it will be very nice!’ Jim had ordered.

Spock had almost answered, ‘Aye, Captain,’ but stopped himself. 

The Kirk’s farm bordered the English river. Jim’s great-grandfather had diverted some of the river to use for the farm. Apparently, he’d had plans to turn it into a mill pond. But whilst the pond was still here, the mill had never happened. This was where Jim brought Spock now, down to this place. Spock stopped and stared. He had never seen anywhere like this. So green, so lush, despite the hot weather. Everywhere was life: grass and leaves and reeds and tiny, tiny pink and yellow flowers. This was the most alien landscape Spock had ever seen. Was this what it was going to be like? Up there? Amongst the stars? All this wonder and strangeness? Spock hoped so. 

Jim laid out a big, red plaid blanket under a large and very old tree. There was a breeze and when it blew, the whole floor shimmered in shades of green, a gift from the sunshine and shadows cast through the massive canopy of leaves above their heads. For the first time in a very long while, Spock felt peaceful.

‘You look at home amongst this greenery,’ Jim said, looking up at him. 

‘That is doubtful,’ remarked Spock, ‘it is completely unlike Vulcan.’

‘Maybe you were a satyr in a former life,’ pondered Jim. ‘I wonder how you’d look with a beard?’ He stood up and took a photo of Spock, then turned away, touching his fone screen. Jim began to laugh, heartily.

‘What is it?’ Spock asked, tersely. Jim held up his fone for Spock to see. There was a photograph of Spock sporting a goatee.

‘You look like your evil twin!’ guffawed Jim. ‘I love it!’

Spock raised his eyebrow. ‘Illogical’, retorted Spock and folded down to the blanket. 

Jim joined him. ‘No – but you really do suit this place. I mean it.’

Spock played with a blade of grass, ‘You…you remind me of Vulcan.’

‘Really?’ said Jim. ‘Is Vulcan filled with good-looking, athletic, intelligent guys who are great with women, then?’

Spock side-stepped his nonsense, ‘It is your colouring. The tan of your skin, the brown and blond of your hair. You are the same colour as the hills behind my home.’

They were quiet for a moment. ‘You’ll see it again, Spock. I promise. I’ll return you to there.’

‘You do not need to promise such things, Jim. The choice to stay away is mine entirely.’ Spock had to admit that.

For a while they settled, reading, chatting about this and that. Then Jim asked a very open question.

‘What’s it like?’

‘What is what like?’ asked Spock.

‘Sex,’ asked Jim.

Spock frowned. 

‘I’m still a virgin,’ admitted Jim.

Spock raised an eyebrow. 

‘I know, I know. Even mom thinks I’m the Romeo of Riverside. But truth is, I’ve not met anyone from here who I want my first time with. Girls here are kind of limited. I like people with intelligence and ambition. I dunno…’

‘What about Areel?’

‘Oh sure - I like Areel a lot. I would definitely like to…but - you know how she feels: “You’re too young.” Trouble is, I’m too old for the girls of my age. I’m stuck. I just want it to be special, you know. For it to be with someone I like a lot. Maybe even love.’

‘That is a noble and worthy ambition, Jim. You should stick to your principles.’

‘Do you love Lisa?’

Spock wasn’t prepared for that question. ‘I am a Vulcan. I am incapable of loving someone.’

‘You know when you say that “I am a Vulcan” thing? I’ve figured out that what you really mean is the exact opposite. It’s nice that you love her. It really is.’

Spock could not deny his friendship for Lisa, his affection. But love? That was much bigger. Love developed slowly, over months and days: the inescapable logic of partnering-up. Love didn’t come in weeks or in instances like humans obsessed over, that “love at first sight” stupidity which they devote so much literature to.

‘Anyway, you didn’t answer my question. What’s sex like?’

Spock lifted his head and stared past the pond into the wheat-lined horizon in the distance. ‘Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.’

Jim smiled, ‘Sex is like death?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ murmured Spock. A death which you want to refuse and yet, you also want to accept. You run headlong into it, fighting it every step of the way. It is…illogical.’

More silence. Then Spock: ‘I have decided to ask Lisa to move with me to San Francisco.’

Jim turned to his friend, eyes smiling, ‘You have?’

‘Yes, it is a rational decision. Lisa wishes to begin her business again in a large city…’

‘Well – San Francisco will be perfect for that!’ interrupted Jim, ‘All those cadets. They want ink!’

‘Quite. There are a number of tattoo establishments there, but Lisa’s skill is such that I am sure she will succeed.’

‘Yeah! Course. Jeez, I’m so happy for you.’

Spock was relieved to have told Jim. He had been milling the decision over for a few days now, ever since Lisa stayed over at the farm. Her urging him to live in the moment, just for one night, had brought it to his mind. His fear of being left alone, of killing off the affection and esteem which people held for him, his internal conflict between the Vulcan and the human…he had to face up these ideas. If he took a risk; asked Lisa to join him for longer, then he could test his theory that he was a pointless person. He hoped to prove it wrong. Although logically there was no particular “reason” for him being born - it had happened and he had to accept that - the quality of his life and his reasons for continuing to exist had to be down to him. That seemed key to the equation of his life: to find his worth.

Jim stood up, ‘Promise me that we are going to see each other again.’

Spock looked up, ‘Certainly.’

‘I mean soon, Spock. Super-soon. Come stay with us over the winter vacation. Sam’s gonna be back from Deneva. He’s not long married. We can be one big family: Mom, Sam, Aurelan, Lisa, you and me.’

Fear. This is all a lie. It will all go away, just like mother, like Vulcan…like father.

‘Enough!’ Spock told himself. ‘Enough of this irrationality.’

‘Yes, Jim. I shall join you for winter vacation and others.’

‘And when I go to the Academy?’ asked Jim, eyes wide in expectation.

‘Our home shall be your home,’ answered Spock. He meant it, too.

‘Yes!’ cried Jim. ‘This is going to be awesome! Kirk and Spock forever and ever!’ he shouted.

Jim was so emotional. But the universe had noted the corners of Spock’s lips lifting slightly at Jim’s reaction.

‘Let’s go for a swim,’ suggested Jim. ‘I’m all sweaty.’

Spock started at the suggestion. There wasn’t much necessity to learn to swim on a bone-dry planet like Vulcan. Hence, all of Spock’s swimming had been in his imagination, played out in his meditations. ‘I do not know how to swim, Jim,’ he admitted.

‘Well, let me be the teacher today.’ Jim held out his hand to Spock. Spock hesitated. This was an unknown for him. He had never immersed himself in water, never even taken a bath. Such things were considered illogical fripperies on his world. A sonic shower: that was Spock’s daily routine. Though, he was required to learn how to swim for Starfleet. It was on his curriculum for the coming year. But those lessons would be in an actual purpose-built pool with lifeguards, not a green pond teaming with all kinds of creatures and plant life. What if he couldn’t get it? What if he didn’t float? (Vulcans are dense). What if he drowned? The outcome of this exercise was not at all guaranteed.

Spock looked at his friend again. Jim’s tanned face smiled. His eyes – surely the largest eyes in all the universe – beckoned him. His hair shone like gold. Every part of Jim’s demeanour said, ‘Trust me. I can get you to the other side of this.’

Spock held out his arm. Hand-in-hand, the boys walked down to the pond. At the water’s edge, Jim took off his pants and then, his underwear. Spock blinked. ‘Look – I’m not sitting round in damp shorts all afternoon. Off-off-off!’ chanted Jim, clapping his hands, encouraging Spock to do the same.

Spock took a deep breath, hooked his fingers into his pants, swooped down, back up. He was naked.

Jim’s mouth was wide open. Spock knew what was coming. ‘Well, do I feel inadequate. Fuck, Spock - is that thing real?’

Spock answered by moving his hips from to side-to-side, letting his cock swing freely.

‘My god, they didn’t tell us about that in Vulcan class. Jeez.’

Jim stepped down the side of the bank into the pond and turned around. He held his arms out. ‘Come in. It’s not too cold and your feet reach the bottom here.’

Spock stepped in and joined hands again with his friend. When the water hit his testicles he shivered. 

Jim started to step further back into the pond, leading Spock out. ‘Okay – here we go.’ Jim let go of Spock’s hands. ‘Watch me. Look, I’m “treading water”. You just gotta trust that you’ll float.’ 

Spock stepped out. The floor had gone! His head went under. Spock felt Jim’s big arm tuck underneath him, lifting him to the surface. Spock laid back on Jim’s chest as Jim swam with both of them into the middle of the pond. ‘Do you think it’s wise to go so far out?’

‘I’ve got enough buoyancy for the both of us. And besides – a thing’s only worth doing if it scares you a little.’ 

Peace. This was peaceful. He trusted Jim completely. Spock stared into the blue sky overhead, the sun beating down. He could float here all day with his friend behind him…Where was Jim? He wasn’t there! Panic!

‘Spock! Quit splashing! Calm down and float. I’m right here if anything goes wrong.’

Settled now, Spock drifted on his back towards his friend. Jim brought his wet face into Spock’s. ‘How you finding this?’

‘Fascinating’, admitted Spock.

Jim dipped his mouth under the surface, came back up and shot a jet of water at Spock’s face.

‘Illogical!’ cried Spock.

‘Always!’ cried Jim.

There was a sound, both the strangest and loveliest sound either of them had ever heard. ‘Are you laughing?’ asked Jim.

‘Yes,’ admitted Spock, ‘but please don’t tell anyone I did that.’

‘I’m afraid that can’t go unpunished, Spock.’ Jim held up his right hand, miming holding a communicator to his face, treading water with his left, ‘Hello? Vulcan-Police? This is James T. Kirk. I have to report a giggling Vulcan. Yes, I know. Shocking.’

Spock splashed Jim. 

‘Do you think you could try what I’m doing, now? Just hold out your hands. Yeah – I got you. Now kick your legs. Yeah! You’re getting it!’ 

Pretty soon, Spock got the hang of floating, treading water. He even managed a paddle across the pond. ‘We should go to the pool in town tomorrow so you can swim lengths,’ suggested Jim.

‘Affirmative,’ Spock responded. To think, that earlier this morning he did not know how to swim. Or that six weeks ago, he had never seen field of wheat, or an Iowan farmhouse, or met Jim.

To speculate about all of this was illogical. Time passes by, progress is a given in this life. Why dwell upon it?

Because to make a note of it was to appreciate the wonder of it. That was what Jim did; he made Spock appreciate the wonder of things. Though he was a Vulcan and incapable of feeling happy, Spock could make Jim feel happy. He could take Jim’s hand and swim with him in a pond, miles away from San Francisco, light-years away from Vulcan and watch his friend smile and laugh and splash around and understand, just a little, what it must feel like to be free.

‘We should try diving. Like – get your head under the water. Have a swim around down there.’

‘Agreed,’ said Spock. He took a deep breath and went under. The water was murky and green. Pond grasses waved in the wetness, long and thick like ribbons. The sunlight broke through in blond shafts. It was pretty. Jim was now with him. His body – thick and golden, swam against Spock. Jim touched him, hand against his tummy. Spock’s abdominal muscles jumped. Jim’s face came up close to his, his eyes open, trying to see Spock through the green. Jim’s hair reflected the sunlight. All was bright and laughing and beautiful. Spock reached out his hand, pinched Jim’s chubby cheek. Jim swam away again, holding his strong, thick legs together tight. It looked like a fish’s tail, sandy scales and fins. Side on now – swimming round and round, a whirlpool with Spock in the middle, created by Merman-Jim.

No!

Spock surfaced desperately, gasping, spluttering. He splashed to the edge of the pond and leapt out, grabbed his clothes and pulled them on.

Jim called to him from the centre of the pond. ‘Spock! Spock! You okay?’

Spock didn’t turn back to look. ‘I have an appointment to keep,’ he shouted. 

Spock started to walk away and then he ran, ran ran as fast as he could. He sped through the green wood, out past the golden wheat and into the blue beyond; running to keep an appointment that wasn't scheduled until the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _'You look like your evil twin..."_ Spock, naturally, looks like his nineteen year-old Mirror Mirror counterpart in Jim's fone app. I have no idea what Spock's Mirror Mirror self is up to at this moment. Perhaps trying to avoid being drowned by his frenemy: Mirror Mirror Jim.
> 
>  _"Do not go gentle into that good night..."_ A poem by a Terran poet called Dylan Thomas. During the signing of the Khitomer Peace Accords, this piece - a rallying cry to fight old age and death to the very end - was read out. The Klingons loved it so much that they adopted it as their own, declaring that Thomas must have been a Klingon. A statue of Thomas now stands on the Klingon homeworld.
> 
>  _"They didn't tell us about that in Vulcan class..."_ The alarmingly large nature of Vulcan male sex organs is not something that Vulcans like to go on about. Not only because they are a modest race, but also due to that old Vulcan saying which (roughly translated) says 'It ain't the size of the bat, but how you swing it that matters.' However, the fact that Vulcans also achieve an amazing 'batting average' so to speak means that they also try to keep quiet about it lest the planet be overrun with sexually-curious outworlders, hoping to score a home run with the Vulcan of their wet dreams.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spock has a bad experience in this chapter. Nothing very nasty, just emotionally painful. When he told me about it tonight, I cried. I thought he'd tell me that I was being illogical, but he didn't. He just told me to remember that he got through it. I think he wants me to remind you of that too.

**NOW**

Smoke. A light blinking. Spock’s prone body, lit up in red. Gone, there, gone again.

‘Spock? Spock?! Are you okay?’ Kirk choked.

Rustling. ‘Yes Captain, I am undamaged.’

They had made it through. Death could wait a little while longer.

Kirk got up now, shuffled over, pulled Spock to his feet. Spock dusted himself down. Showtime once more.

They forced open the doors and leapt out. Kirk’s phaser was in his hand. He dropped down on one knee, turning left, turning right. 

Sand covered their feet. A high promontory of light-coloured rock, six feet wide, towered close to them on the west side. A mountain range stood to the south, dusty and mournful. The sky, coloured pink and yellow by the entity, gave everything a rosy glow. It was the final sunset of this planet; a long and beautiful goodbye to all of their tomorrows.

Kirk stood, hands on hips. He felt completely at home.

‘This reminds me of Vulcan.’

He turned on his heel to look at Spock. ‘This place,’ the Vulcan re-emphasised, ‘it looks exactly like home, Jim.’

Kirk smiled. ‘I promised I’d return you there one day. I guess that this was the best I could do.’ He held out his hand. ‘Come on, Spock. Let me see if I can get us to the other side of this.’

Spock took Kirk’s hand. They stepped close to each other, heads bowed, foreheads touching. There was no one to see this. Nothing would be logged. No one would ever know.

A word flashed into his head, clear and bright: ‘ _T’hy’la_ ’. Did he say that? No. Spock thought it. So Kirk wasn’t crazy after all: his mind was linked to Spock’s. ‘ _T’hy’la_ ’, he whispered in return.

Standing back now: ‘Alright – we need to talk to her. Ideas, Science Officer?’

‘I believe I can broadcast to her through my mind. She seems to hear me.’

‘Why is that?’ Kirk asked.

‘I believe,’ Spock paused, ‘or rather, she believes that we are “cut from the same cloth”, so to speak. We share a… similar experience.’

Spock stepped a few paces forward. He placed his arms by his sides and clenched his hands into fists, closing his eyes and lifting his head. The pink light cast his shadow across the tan sand, long and thin, stretching on and on. 

The captain engaged the universal translator. Was this going to work? There were no guarantees in this alien landscape. The only sure thing were Kirk’s intentions. He was going to lead them both into the brilliant sunshine of their yesterdays; burn away every wasted year until all that was left was the memory of that single summer. And then? Who knows? Maybe they’d survive. It really didn’t matter. Like Spock said - at least they were together, friends again like they were meant to be.

The floor started to move under their feet. The sky looked like it was falling, Chicken Little-style, upon their heads. ‘Spock!’ Kirk cried, ‘Hold steady!’

Kirk looked up at the heavens cascading down. ‘Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light,’ he quoted, quietly. She was coming. Coming for him.

The universal translator spluttered into life. ‘Liar! Betrayer! Killer of the All-Love! James Tiberius Kirk must die!’

 

**THEN**

‘Are you okay? You left sort of abruptly yesterday.’

I am a Vulcan, in control of my emotions.

‘Did I do something wrong? Scare you with the swimming thing? I’m sorry.’

I am a Vulcan, in control of my emotions.

‘Are you going to talk to Lisa about moving in with you? She’ll say yes, Spock. I can see how much you two are into each other.’

I am a Vulcan, in control of my emotions.

‘Don’t forget about tonight. Nine o’clock at The English. I’m throwing you the biggest leaving party ever. Everyone in Riverside wants to say goodbye.’

I am a Vulcan, in control of my…

Outside Lisa’s now. Variables all computed. The decision was a logical one. There were big advantages to opening a business in San Francisco. Spock had money to invest, he had worked out the return. He could get Lisa ‘back on her feet’ – that was the expression, was it not? He wanted to do this. Their friendship was firm. He was used to her. Their bond was forming deep inside him. He hoped it was taking root in Lisa also; scratching into her skin, indelible. He would be part of her forever, like one of the tattoos she designed.

A tattoo. Like Jim’s.

I am a Vulcan, in control of my emotions.

‘Hey sexy. You gonna miss me? I fucking hope so. And don’t give me that “I am a Vulcan” line. Go on – _indulge me_.’

Spock sat down opposite Lisa, taking her hands in his. ‘Lisa. I have an idea. I believe it is a mutually advantageous one. I have made all the calculations. We can make this work.’

Lisa’s face, clouding over, ‘Okay?’

‘Would you move to San Francisco with me?’

Hands. She was taking her hands away. What did that mean? 

‘I didn’t think we were that kind of friend.’

Spock squinted. ‘Are there different kinds of friendship?’

‘Yes. Shit...I thought you understood this.’

‘I evidently do not. Please explain.’

‘It’s just too soon, after Karen I mean. I only wanted a friend.’

‘I see. A friend you have sex with? And that is different from the kind of friend who moves to San Francisco?’

‘Yes. That kind of friend is a girlfriend…Or boyfriend. Like a real, forever-friend.’

‘I understand. So you are not my real friend. This is just a made-up acquaintance?’

I am a Vulcan, in control of my emotions.

‘No! Shit! I’m your real friend. I am here for you. I will always be here for you. I just can’t move in with you…I’m not making myself clear.’

‘Negative. Your message is completely clear. This is a temporary affection on your part. I was not aware of this nuance until today. On Vulcan, we do not enter into such arrangements. All of our friendships have meaning.’

I am a Vulcan, in control of my emotions.

‘Oh my god! We have meaning, Spock! I just thought…I thought I was helping you. I mean, you came and asked me to take your virginity. “I want to learn about sex”, that’s what you said. I thought that was what we are about.’

‘I see. We are about sex. Sex on Vulcan means staying together, living together.’

I am a Vulcan, in control of my emotions.

‘So this is my fault? Because I didn’t get a bunch of Vulcan things that you never bothered to explain to me.’

Lisa stood up, angry, shaking. ‘You know what? Fuck this. I thought I was helping you get to where you need to be, but evidently you’re still ignoring the message. Well – enough. I’m sick of waiting for you to wake the fuck up to yourself. Subtlety over, mister.’

She strode over to her desk and snatched a black-bound book. She marched back to Spock and thrust it into his face, turning over the pages, jabbing her finger angrily at each of the things she showed him:

‘You see this? And this? This book is full of them. I see him, Spock. I see him every time we have sex. At first, he was real fuzzy, but as time's passed by he's become clearer and clearer. So I drew him for you. See? Look at him, Spock, for god’s sake!’

I am a Vulcan, in control…

‘I don’t mind, Spock. I knew I wasn’t in love with you. Sure, I love you. I really do. But like a friend.’

I am a Vulcan, in…

I figured that this must be why we found each other. I have been through this, Spock. When I realised that I like girls, that was a crazy, crazy day. Scary. And when I understood that was happening to you too, I wanted to help.’

I am a Vulcan…

Spock stood up. Go. Run. But Lisa wouldn’t let him. She grabbed him by the shoulders. The sketchbook in her hand dropped to the floor. Spock looked down at it. Staring back at him was one of the dozen sketches, all of the same person: a golden-haired, golden-tailed merman, with a thick, tanned body and a shining, handsome face that carried a dazzling smile which could light up every corner of the room.

‘You are in love with Jim! Do you hear me? You love Jim!’

I am a…

He didn’t know anymore. What was he? What was Spock?

 

Vulcans have been spared the dubious effects of alcohol, but humans haven’t. Spock was half-human. It took a lot to get him drunk, though. Four bottles of whiskey as it turned out. 

Fuck the English. Shithole. 

Just look at them all. What were they staring at? Hadn’t they seen a drunk Vulcan before? Well now was their big chance. He was there to give their stupid lives some interest. Hey! His life had meaning after all. 

Lisa. What did she want? No – he didn’t want to sit down. Who was she? His mother? No - she was back on Vulcan where he should fucking be. Yes, he was drunk. It felt just fine, thank you. And yes, he was intensely proud of himself for getting into this state. Yet another signifier of a particularly fascinating summer. A fucking A-grade six weeks, no thanks to her.

Oh, would you look at that! It was logical - flawlessly fucking logical - that this should be happening, right in front of his eyes. Jim. Jim! The love of his fucking life. Isn’t that what she said he was? Well, was she looking at him now?! At what he was doing?!

‘He’s got his tongue rammed down her neck! You want me to love that? To give up everything I am to love a man who doesn’t love me? He doesn’t care, Lisa! Never has, never will! He doesn’t fucking see me. I am _nothing_. Nobody! Pointless. I, I…’

Spock slumped to the floor, vomiting.

Jim, on the far side of the dancefloor, let go of Areel and ran over. ‘Spock!’ Jim got on his knees, rubbing Spock’s back. ‘Spock, what’s wrong?’

Spock looked into Jim’s eyes. ‘She said no.’

‘What the fuck, Lisa?’

Lisa erupted. ‘I knew this would happen! You fucking pointy-eared bastard! I get the blame for this? Priceless. Well fuck you. I am never going to talk to you again!’

Areel bounded over and threw her arms around Lisa, ‘Don’t cry!’

‘Lisa’s not the fucking victim here, Areel! She caused this!’

‘Fuck off, Jim! “All bros together”? Is that how this is? You have no fucking idea…’

‘I know what’s going…’

Spock drifted off into unconsciousness. The sound of his friends at war was the last thing he heard that night. He was the love-killer. He truly was.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just keep remembering that Spock comes through this.

**NOW**

Kirk was down on his knees, arms wrenched behind him. If she pulled any further his bones would break. 

Breathe, breathe. Focus on anything but the pain. Focus on her. No – he couldn’t. She was everywhere. She was the sky; she was the earth. This place, this planet - it was all her. They were linked somehow.

Breathe. Breathe. Focus again. Focus on Spock. Spock was okay – thank god. He was standing about three feet away from Kirk. What was he saying?

‘Mar’gar – that is your name, is it not? We come in peace. Please release my captain. We will not harm you.’

She spoke now. Her voice - high, pain-stricken - came through the translator. ‘Spock of Vulcan, why are you so concerned for this human?’

‘Because,’ said Spock, ‘he is my friend.’

She laughed. ‘Friend? You call what he gives you “friendship”? I have other names for it. “Torment”, and “lies” - that is what he gave you, Spock.’

Did she know? 

Spock now: ‘Then you have reached into my mind?’

‘Yes Spock, I know. I know all that happened many years ago.’

‘Then if you know all,’ stated Spock, ‘you must also know the good things Kirk gave to me. I first listened to Bowie with him, he taught me to swim. I rode a motorcycle. I watched the Twilight Zone. He hugged me again and again and again despite my protestations. He made me realise that I am a “sexy guy”. All this and more I gained thanks to James T. Kirk. He opened up the world for me, Mar’gar.’ 

He continued, ‘Before that summer, Earth seemed alien to me. But when I met Jim, everything made sense. I watched his reactions to life around him – his smiles, his giggles, his frowns – and somehow I understood. And through him, people understood me. Being Vulcan means that people are wary of approaching me. But when I am with my captain, people lose their inhibitions. He is my universal translator.’

The desert shimmered, ‘Do you love him, Spock?’

Spock took a breath. He looked down at Kirk and actually smiled. It was beautiful. It made Kirk forget his pain momentarily and smile back at him. ‘Yes, Mar’gar. I love him. I love James T. Kirk and I will always love him. It is my way.’

‘I know this,’ she stated. ‘I felt it the moment I touched your mind. We are alike, you and I. We are the ever-loving. We never stop. Whatever the other does to us, our love never ends.’

Kirk felt the bonds on his arms weakening. They were still very strong, he couldn’t struggle free yet. But if Spock was smart – and Spock was very smart – he would realise that they were onto something.

‘You have an other also, Mar’gar?’

Clever boy, Spock!

Her voice soft now, tremulous, ‘I _had_ , Spock. I had an other. Like no other.’

‘Tell me, Mar’gar. The past is the past. We cannot change it, yet sometimes we need to talk about it. It is not logical but it is true, nonetheless.’

The wall of rock to Kirk’s right suddenly came to life. There was a picture forming, like a giant viewscreen. A black space appeared, a vast expanse. It filled Kirk with emptiness.

‘I came into being a million of your years ago. I found myself here, in this place. For five hundred thousand years I wandered. I did not know why I was created. I could feel…something within me. I could not put it into words, having no frame of reference to compare it to. I know now that it was loneliness. I had the capacity to love – a great well of it inside of me, but no one to give it to. Then I met him…’

Another entity appeared. A shimmering blue thing, with yellow particles blooming like flowers, withering away then blooming once more. He was beautiful. Kirk felt joy just by looking at him.

‘…my other: Mas’tar. Like me, he too wandered the cosmos, lost and alone. But when I met him, I began to make sense. Mas’tar took my pain and flung it into the stars to burn away forever.’

Planetary systems and stars were forming now. Great spheres of glowing rock spun and cooled. Atmospheres settled bringing sunshine and showers. Rivers flowed, plants grew and creatures crawled. Kirk recognised two of the planets from the stars around them – Niobe and Gamma Cygni Two.

‘We fell in love. And as happens with lovers everywhere, we created life. We made this planet and countless others together. I watched our children grow. Mas’tar – he wanted to do this more than anything. “Make me a father, beloved! Let us fill the galaxy with our progeny.” And so we did.’

‘When I first met Mas’tar, I was filled with fear. What if one day he decided that he loved me no longer? But he told me that was impossible. He said that true love never ends; that it is unchanging, a fixed star in the heavens. And so I rested easy. We would be together forever. Do you see Spock? Do you understand?’

Spock lifted his head. ‘I understand, Mar’gar. And though I am filled with dread at what you are about to impart, please continue.’

She paused, a sob rang out. Kirk bowed his head in sadness, her grief welling up inside him. 

The rock face now became utterly black and empty once more.

‘Mas’tar came to me and said that, over the long millennia, his feelings towards me had changed. He no longer felt as he once did. He wished to explore on his own again, to reach into the blackness and find…something else.’

She was crying now. Unable to stop herself. ‘He lied, Spock. His love died. He killed it. But mine?’

The screen filled with a single star, blazing, beautiful. ‘My love remains forever. It will never go away. I love him still. I will always love him. But he does not love me, Spock! He does not love me…’

The screen was now chaos. Planets and stars on fire, exploding.

‘He could not have truly loved me. It was a lie. These things we made together – our children – they are lies also. They must go! They must die as our love died.'

‘Love does not change for us, Spock. In all my long lifetime, I have never met another like you. We are the only two beings in the universe who carry this terrible curse. We cannot just love and forget and move on like the trillions of others, including your beloved Captain. You were never the love-killer, Spock. You were the keeper of its flame.’

Kirk looked up at his friend. He wanted to reach out and hold him, touch him and remember what that felt like forever. 

Spock began to protest: ‘We cannot hold everyone else in the universe responsible for how they were made, any more than we two can be held responsible for our making. The fact of your love was real. It existed, Mar’gar. Just look at all you created! My love affair with Kirk lasted six weeks, a nanosecond in the lifetime of your love. But the effect of that all-too-brief a time will live with me forever. I regret nothing. It made me who I am. I loved him, I love him, and I always will.’

Kirk could be silent no longer. He had to say something. Didn’t she understand that he cared for Spock too? That summer had been special for him also.

‘Mar’gar!’ Kirk cried, ‘you speak as though I felt nothing for Spock. That isn’t so. I love him too. My love is different, I admit. Changed from once it was. But I hold Spock in the highest esteem. I regret much. I feel sorry for halting contact with him and…’

‘He does not know, does he?’ interrupted Mar’gar.

‘No,’ said Spock. ‘he does not. And I do not think it necessary to…’

‘I don’t know what?’ demanded Kirk. ‘What don’t I know?’

The sky turned dark pink. ‘You do not know what you wrought upon him on that final day.’

‘Mar’gar, please, do not do this,’ begged Spock.

‘What? What is it? Spock? What is she talking about?’

She laughed. It rang out all over the planet, cruel.

‘Let me show you, James T. Kirk. May the tormentor become the tormented.’

The rock face spluttered into life again…

 

**THEN**

Spock walked down the stairs straightening his hair. When he got to the bottom he picked up his suitcase and holdall. Winona was waiting for him.

‘Isn’t James coming down to say goodbye?’ she asked. 

‘He has already taken his leave of me,’ replied Spock. 

‘Oh – I see…Well, can I get a hug? I know you don’t like it, but I’m sentimental and I might not see you again till winter.’ She placed her arms around him. Spock didn’t move.

‘Okay, well – I guess this is goodbye.’

‘Affirmative,’ he replied.

He stepped outside. Three-point-six-five hours earlier it had started raining, torrents of it. The hot weather had finally broken. His transport hovered at the end of the path. Spock walked to it, the rain drenching him. It was cold, but he didn’t feel it. He mounted the transport and turned. Staring out from the window which he had called his own for six weeks was his friend, Jim.

The transport set off. Spock watched Riverside shrink until it became a spot on a tunic of gold. 

So this was what being Vulcan actually felt like? He had achieved it without the _Kolinahr_. He felt nothing, absolutely nothing except for the rain on his face. 

The transporter stopped. Spock disembarked. The pilot asked him if he was okay. 

Spock walked through Starfleet Academy campus. He became aware that people were stopping to stare. They looked concerned. There must have been an incident of some kind. 

Spock stopped in front of the main entrance to the administration building. It was necessary to register for the coming year. It was a glass-fronted edifice. You could look through and see the reception desk beyond. 

Spock saw a man through the glass. He was tall, dark. The man was crying. Tears were streaming down his face, dripping off his strong chin. Blood poured from the man’s nose. 'Someone should call a medic,' Spock thought.

Spock peered closer. The blood was green.

He looked down to the floor. It was wet. And there was an ever-growing circle of green.

The last thing he heard was someone shouting, ‘Get a doctor! Now!’

He closed his eyes. He felt nothing. Nothing.

He was nothing.

He would always be nothing.

For a brief moment, he had it all. Love was his. But he gave it up. He walked away. He killed it.

Spock: The Love-Killer.

_T’hy’la._


	13. Chapter 13

**NOW**

The human heart is a fragile thing. Prone to disease, susceptible to the effects of old age, but nevertheless we need it to live. It is necessary.

But if Kirk could have moved, he would have dug his fingers into his chest and torn it right out. What good was a heart if all it ever did was break? He wanted rid of it, rid of all his hurt and regret. Rid of his life.

What had he done? He didn’t deserve this tunic, these stripes on his sleeve. His life was a great big lie, built on a foundation that didn’t exist: the thought that something was salvageable from that summer. He had been kidding himself for fifteen years. ‘It wasn’t all bad, was it? I did something good for him, one time at least?’ No. No he hadn’t.

‘Spock! Spock!’ Kirk was crying, shouting with pain. He didn’t care if he died. He was worthless. Let death come. But he didn’t want to go gentle into that good night without one final embrace. He wanted Spock. He wanted his friend. ‘Spock!’

Spock leapt forward, but Mar’gar held him back. ‘Let me go to him, please.’

‘No. Even now he thinks only of himself, of his own needs. It is forgiveness he wants, Spock. Absolution so that he can keep doing whatever he wants to do, again and again and again.’

‘He has my forgiveness, Mar’gar!’ shouted Spock, angry now, ‘He has always had it! Why do you torment him? I survived. I thrived. What happened that day was as much my fault as his. You say that I am not the killer of love, yet you know what I did! You know!’

‘I know, Spock. But I also know that no one can kill the love inside another. Your actions, your decisions and feelings – they are your responsibility. His decision to stay away was his and his alone. He could have fought for you; fought to retain his love, but he did not. Instead, he moved on just as Mas’tar did. They are the very same, your lover and mine...

The heavens raged above Kirk’s head, the ground shook beneath his body. He could no longer make out what Spock and Mar’gar were saying. Pain pulsed through him – both of his arms were broken now. But all that would have been forgotten but for a touch. And so Kirk closed his eyes and began to remember, his mind flying away from the chaos and recriminations of the Now into the Then.

The rock face became a viewscreen for one last time…

**THEN**

Morning. The morning, in fact. 

Bags packed in the hall. A small suitcase and a holdall. Just sitting there. Amazing.

Stairs. There’s the stairs. He’s up there, in his room, acting like none of this matters. 

Hand. Hand on the bannister. How does he not get it? What’s going on here?

Door. His door. There were enough clues. He should understand.

Room. Him. How can he exist? He is so perfect. It’s like he’s not real.

When you first saw him, you knew this was it. You’d felt something like it before, but not like this. Not like this. 

You’d fight for him. You’d kill for him. You’d die for him. But all he’s done is ignore it for six fucking weeks. What do you have to do? Scream? Is that what needs to happen here? Shout and bite and kick to get through that rock-hard exterior of his?

Why? Why was it your lot to fall in love with the one person in the universe who cannot love you back. You stupid, stupid kid. That’s all you are. A stupid fucking kid with your head in the stars.

God, you love him so fucking much. So much it hurts. You wake up and you drown in it. Night after night, imagining it: what it’d be like to tell him. To grab him and kiss him till he can’t breathe and shove your hand down his pants and fist him till he begs you to never stop and then go down on him and push inside him and…

That’s what you need to do.

 

‘Jim – I apologise for last night. I was not myself…’

‘I love you.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I love you. I fucking love you, Spock.’

 

Kiss him. Don’t think about it. Just fling your arms around his neck and kiss him, hard on the mouth. Yeah – like that.

Resistance. This was a huge fucking mistake. Pull back. 

No, wait. His mouth is softening. His lips are opening. Quick! Push your tongue in, just a little.

Fuck, this is happening! It’s really happening! Fuck. Fuck! Oh god - it feels so good! Spock’s right, it is like dying. 

Grab his hair. Take it into your fist. Bring his head closer. Push into his mouth. God! Spock can really kiss. He’s so good. This is the best fucking…

Shove him back against the desk, hard. Clamp your legs onto his, rest your balls on his leg. Move a little. Get off on it. Get closer. Make his cock rub against your leg. Move your leg. Move it. Make him feel it.

Moan. Moan. Ear. Spock’s beautiful ear. Want to fuck that ear. Is that even a thing? Whisper into it, 

‘I love you.’

Grab his hands. He’s trembling all over. Grab them and put them on your ass. Fuck yeah, Spock. Do it. Squeeze it. It’s yours.

Pull his tee up. Touch his chest. Rake your fingers through that black hair. It’s soft. You weren’t expecting that.

What was that noise? Spock. It’s Spock, speaking Vulcan. That’s so sexy. Fuck. You really do love him. Gonna show him how much. 

Pull on his belt. Pull on yours. Grab his hand, shove it down your pants. Fuck! That…that. Put your hands round his cock. Damn - he’s so big. How you gonna take that on? Don’t know, don’t care. You’ll fucking do it. All day and all night.

Hands, moving up and down. Feel dizzy. Breathe. Fucking breathe. Gonna make him shoot so hard. Gonna make him scream your fucking name till there’s no voice left in his head. 

‘You’re so beautiful...’

He’s yours now. Yours forever and ever. You’re never going to stop loving him. This is it. No man will ever come close to being as brilliant as he is. You’ll die by his side: fighting and fucking. You’re dying now. _T’hy’la_.

 

‘Spock! Your transport’s here.’

‘It’s just mom. I’ll go tell her you’re staying a couple more days. Stay exactly where you are.’

Kiss him. Wait. Why’s he standing up?

‘What are you doing?’

‘I am leaving.’

‘What do you mean “you’re leaving”?’

‘I have to return to the Academy and continue my studies.’

This is crazy. He’s talking crazy. 

‘I fuckin’ know that! You can stay for at least one more day. Haven’t we got something to talk about?’

‘I cannot change who I am…’

‘I’m not asking you to fucking change, am I? I like you just the way you are, every inch of you. Spock – please don’t do this. I love you.’

‘I am a Vulcan, I am incapable…’

‘Fuck you! Fuck you - you heartless fucking bastard! How can you do this to me?’

That was way too much. You’ve upset him. Fuck! Get him back. Do whatever it takes, but stop him doing this. If he walks away, you’ll never see him again.

‘I love you Spock. And I know you love me too. I know it. I just felt it. And I get that you’re a Vulcan. I’ll never stop you being who you are. Why would I want to do that? You being Vulcan is why I like you so much. We can go there if you like? We’ll visit your dad. We’ll talk to him and get everything sorted out, I promise. We can even live there if that’s what you want. I will do whatever you need me to. Please…? Please?’

He’s still going! Why? Why is he doing this? He’s killing me. He’s the love of my fucking life and he’s going to walk away and never see me again. 

‘If you fucking walk out that door, I am never going to talk to you ever again. Do you hear me? You won’t see me or hear from me. You’ll be dead to me.’

‘I died a long time ago…’

 

He’s gone.

He’s actually gone.

No.

No!

Don’t do that. No don’t. Why are you watching him go? He’s not going to change his mind. He just looked up. Did you see? He just looked at you and he still got onto that fucking transport.

Oh god - this is what dying feels like. It’s not like he said it is. Nothing like it. This is awful.

I am never going to fall in love again. 

He was it.

And I lost him.

I just wasn’t good enough.

He never loved me.

Put it away, Jim. Put it away forever.

 _T'hy'la_.


	14. Chapter 14

**NOW**

‘Enough, Spock! No more talking. The time has come!’

‘Mar’gar – do not do this! Why destroy the only beautiful thing you have left of your love with Mas’tar: this planet, the stars and beyond? It is illogical.’

Kirk lifted his head as best he could. His left eye was badly swollen. His bottom lip was cut, his mouth full of sand. It felt like she’d shoved nearly the whole desert in there. 

He looked at Spock trying to reason with her. He was magnificent, unflinching, so tall and handsome and noble. Spock had matured into every inch the man Kirk thought he would. Kelso was a lucky man. 

Kelso. 

Spock would die here and never see his boyfriend again. That wasn’t fair. They deserved a fighting chance. Their love affair was beautiful, lasting. Kirk and Spock? They had tried but it just didn’t work out. They were too young. They'd had too much to figure out about themselves, not leaving enough to give to the other. So whilst they had been desperately in love for six weeks, it just wasn’t meant to be. 

What Mar’gar didn’t understand is that, sometimes, truly loving someone is understanding when to let go. And by god – Kirk had loved Spock. The first moment he’d set eyes upon him, he had fallen under the Vulcan’s spell. Kirk had to laugh at the memory of hiding his youthful boner behind a kitchen chair on the day Spock arrived. Every morning, he would bound downstairs like he was made of springs, full of joy because he was going to see him, see his Spock. He'd think of new ways to try to touch his friend; take his clothes off so that he could see his body. Kirk did everything that summer to try and make Spock see how much he wanted him.

‘James – he is different to you. Go slowly.’

‘I know mom.’

Winona had predicted that his heart would get broken, and she was right. She was always right. He had to let Spock go; accept that the timing wasn’t there, that he wasn’t the right man. And Spock deserved the very best. So Mar’gar was right: Kirk had moved on for Spock’s sake. Someone else was going to take Spock’s hand and lead him to the other side of life. And that man was Kelso.

Kirk watched Mar’gar continue to argue. She wasn’t going to see sense. She was angry and vengeful. Kirk understood how she felt. That day when Spock walked out? If Kirk had possessed a starship, he’d have emptied his phaser banks right onto Spock’s head. Kirk desperately wanted to make things right for Mar'gar. He would spend the whole of eternity looking for that Mas’tar of hers just to ask him, 'What's your damage, mister?' Because to have someone who loves you that much but let it go? That warranted an explanation at least.

But that was never going to happen. Instead, Kirk could only do his best with what he at hand: his heroism, his commitment to doing the right thing, his love for Spock, his crew and the whole universe. Everyone deserved a chance to live, to love, to continue. He had promised Spock that he would return him to Kelso. Kirk was going to make good on all of it.

He cleared his throat. His lungs were damaged so taking a breath was hard. Nevertheless, he managed to shout out loud enough for them to hear:

‘Take me instead, Mar’gar! Take me!’

Spock spun around. ‘Captain?’

‘You want revenge, Mar’gar? Well, I’m it. Mas’tar is long gone but it’s him you really want. You want to kill him - not all of these innocent people. Well, I’m the next best thing! You said it yourself – you and Spock are the only two beings in the universe who truly, truly love. I am Spock’s Mas’tar! I am he who took the truest, most beautiful love there ever was and threw it away! And I threw it away because I am a coward and because I am selfish. My love is gone, gone, gone. I killed it! I slit its throat and threw it on a garbage pile because I never really loved Spock anyway.’

He had always been great at lying.

‘So take me, not the universe. Because my death will be the sweetest thing that you will ever taste.’

Kirk saw Mar’gar now as clear as day. A shimmering form, she emerged from the skies and the earth to stand before him, beautiful and bold.

‘This is acceptable, James Tiberius Kirk.’

‘No!’ cried Spock. ‘Captain, give me time!’

‘There’s no time left, Spock,’ said Kirk. ‘You know that.’

‘But Jim – your life.’

Kirk smiled, ‘The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few…or the one.’

‘No.’

‘Sometimes, Spock, loving someone means learning when to let go.’

Kirk didn’t understand what was happening at first. It had been so long since he’d seen it person. But then he realised: Spock was crying.

Spock turned to Mar’gar. ‘Please, let me go to him.’

‘As you wish,’ she replied and released Kirk’s arms. They hung limply by his side. He looked like a battered and bruised rag doll. Spock knelt in front of him and placed his long fingers under Kirk’s chin, lifting his head, gently, so that the captain could look into his brown eyes.

‘I bet I look terrible. Sorry honey,’ said Kirk.

‘You have never looked more beautiful,’ Spock replied. 

‘Kiss me,’ Kirk whispered, ‘kiss me and I know I won’t feel any pain. Give me the death you told me about all those years ago. That death where you want it, but you fight it; where you rush headlong into it. I don’t want to go quietly. I want to go in an explosion.’

Spock bent forward and pressed his lips to Kirk’s. It came gently at first, but then their passion overcame them. They could not hold back. The pent-up feelings of fifteen years gushed up like water, drowning them both. Spock held onto the small of Kirk’s back, the nape of his neck. Kirk fell hard against Spock. They locked on. They were never going to let go. 

Mar’gar entered Kirk. One by one, his atoms began to explode. A million tiny deaths began to caress his body. Spock was right. Sex was death. Death was sex. Spock’s lips on his, tongue inside his mouth. Rush, rush towards the end! Lead me to it, Mar’gar! Hold my hand, Spock! Take me to the other side. I don’t want to exist anymore. Make me nothing. A perfect, round zero in a place where not even the stars matter.

Kissing, kissing, kissing. Spock’s smell – dry and perfumed. Wherever it was Kirk was heading to he was taking that smell with him. The taste of Spock – clean. The heat of him. Beautiful. You are beautiful Spock. I have loved you. I have loved you and that is a privilege few experience. Thank you.

Mar’gar was deep inside him now, revealing more and more, stripping back to his core, that place where he truly, truly existed. She took away the layers of charm, of bravado. She peeled away his confidence, his capacity to lie. Now she was at his humour, his joking. Soon she’d hit his smile, that beautiful dazzling smile of his which lit up the room. When that went, Kirk would be gone.

Spock felt the captain go limp. 'Stay with me a while longer, _T’hy’la_.' Kirk opened his eyes and whispered back, ' _‘T’hy’la_.' Spock brought Kirk closer into him until it was impossible to see where Kirk ended and Spock began. ‘ _Taluhk nash-veh k'dular_ ,’ he whispered.

Mar’gar was there now – at the place where Kirk really existed. It was a chest, like the sort a pirate would bury her treasure in. Opening it was no easy feat. No one had been here for years, not even Kirk. But finally she managed to force the lid off. A golden light flooded the plane of Kirk’s dwindling existence.

Kirk saw the golden light. This was it. Run to that, Kirk! Run. He heard laughter. A giggle. It was Mar’gar. ‘Well, I would never have thought it possible, but there it is,' she said. 

Spock held Kirk’s spent body in his arms. He brought him in close once more and began to cry. Jim was gone. 

But then he felt Kirk take a breath, then another, and another. ‘Captain? Jim!’ He was alive! Jim was alive! Kirk started to cough and splutter, the blood returning to his cheeks.

Spock watched a pink shimmer lift into the air. ‘I will go now, Spock of Vulcan. All we be as once it was.’ And with that, she disappeared.

‘What the hell happened?’ Kirk asked, looking round in bewilderment. 'Shouldn't I be dead?'

‘She’s gone, Jim.’

Kirk shook his limbs. ‘My arms. They’re no longer broken.’ 

Spock and Kirk leapt to their feet. ‘The bruise above your eye has disappeared. Also - the cut on your lip.’

Kirk ran his tongue against the inside of his mouth. Spock was right. The sound of Kirk’s communicator beeping in his pocket nearly scared him out of his skin. ‘Captain, are you alright down there?’

‘Spock and I are fine, Scotty. What happened?’

‘Well, I cannae believe it sir, but that planet which blew up? Niobe? It’s bloody well back! The _Irkutsu_ too. There are no more anomalies where you are and the Enterprise is back to full working capacity!’

‘What about that?

‘Fascinating. I wonder what changed her mind?’ Spock pondered.

‘I have no idea,’ admitted Kirk. ‘Scotty - stand by to energise. I just need to check something out down here.’

Kirk put his communicator away and smiled. ‘Thank you, Spock. I think you saved my life.’

‘It was nothing, Captain.’

Kirk stood close to his science officer. ‘That was one hell of a kiss, though. Do you think Mr. Kelso would mind if I borrowed you for just a few minutes more? For old time’s sake?’

Spock raised his eyebrow. ‘I think he would consider it part of your commendation for a mission well done, sir.’

Kirk smiled and pulled Spock into him. He placed his lips against his and kissed, hard. He felt Spock respond. Now that Kirk had two working hands, he ran his fingers through Spock’s hair. A million tiny deaths erupted all over their bodies. Finally, Kirk placed both of his hands on Spock's ass and lifted the Vulcan off his feet. He felt Spock smile under his lips.

 _T’hy’la_.

‘There. I’d say this mission was over, wouldn’t you?’

‘I think so Captain.’

Ber-beep! ‘Scotty! Two to beam up!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I make no apologies for how kissy-face this chapter is.


	15. Chapter 15

**NOW**

‘We thought we had angered the Makers. To discover that they are as fallible as us, well – it is certainly interesting. Our whole theology may have to change.’

Kirk smiled at the viewscreen in his quarters. The inhabitants of Gamma Cygni Two – or “Kitara” as they called their homeworld, had turned out to be humanoid with bright pink skin and yellow hair. ‘That only means that the Makers as you call them truly made you in their own form, President Kuu. Birth and death are the only guarantees in this universe. It is falling in love which makes everything in-between happen. I think that there is something comforting in that.’

The President smiled. ‘Indeed, Captain Kirk. Our thanks once again to you and your crew for saving us. Kitara out.’

The viewscreen went black. There was a pile of record tapes stacked a mile-high on Kirk’s desk. So much to do before they handed over watch and got on with their next mission! Briefing updates: the new uniforms were finally on their way, a redesign from Starfleet which had been taking far too long. Kirk’s crew were having to make do with dwindling supplies of the current tunic. Poor Spock was wearing gold at the moment, his last blue one having been damaged irreparably down on Kitara. There were also service records to go through. Doctor Piper was due for retirement soon. One candidate for Chief Medical Officer really stood out, a medic by the name of Leonard McCoy. However, Kirk still had another fifteen records to go through. Then there was the question of how the hell he should log his latest mission. Kirk really didn’t want their epic kiss being broadcast to Starfleet Central. He and Spock would have to get their heads together on that one at some point.

But for now, he was going to put all this boring administration aside and do something pleasurable:

‘Mr. Spock, will you come to my quarters please?’

A few minutes later the bell to Kirk’s door pinged. Spock stepped in.

‘You wished to see me, sir?’

‘Yes Spock, sit down. As you are no doubt aware, I have been considering who to promote to the role of first officer. I am pleased to say that I have made my choice. Congratulations, Mr. Spock.’

Kirk stretched his arm across the desk to shake Spock’s hand but found the Vulcan’s response unforthcoming. Instead, Spock merely blinked and said, ‘I beg your pardon, sir?’

‘You’re first officer, Spock,’ said Jim, smiling.

‘But Mr. Mitchell? I understand that he is the preferred candidate?’

‘Of the stuffed shirts back on Earth maybe, but out here, where it matters, you are the preferred candidate. Namely, my candidate.’

‘I have no desire for command, Jim.’

Kirk leaned forward, ‘I know that. And you and I have very different styles of running things round here, but that’s why this is going to work. The crew trusts you, Spock. You’re the one they come to when the crap hits the deflector shield, so to speak. They like you, they know you. And you are a fine officer, mister. The best. Your loyalty? Your selflessness? Your quick-thinking? What more could a captain ask for? Nothing. And besides, we make a great team. Always have, always will.’

Kirk watched Spock think for a moment, all those variables whirring round his head. ‘Thank you, Captain. I shall be honoured to accept the role as your second.’

‘Excellent!’ exclaimed Kirk, clapping his hands. ‘I’m not going to announce this yet. We’ve got one hell of a mission to go to next, near the edge of the galaxy. I’d rather wait until the crew is less tense and more in the mood to celebrate. Also…’ and Kirk paused here, half-ashamed of what he was about to admit. ‘…I don’t want to pin command on you whilst you’re wearing that gold.’

Spock raised an eyebrow. ‘Agreed, it does nothing for me.’ Spock paused for a moment and then asked, ‘May I inform Mr. Kelso in the meantime? I will vouch for his discretion.’

‘Of course you can tell your boyfriend.’ Kirk smiled as he said the word “boyfriend”. He was so damn glad for Spock. They made a nice couple. 

They became silent for a moment. Then Kirk spoke, ‘What happened? After you were taken ill?’

Spock considered, ‘Would you mind?’ he asked and lifted his fingers towards Kirk’s face. 

‘What are you going to do?’

‘My mind with yours…’

Kirk took a breath. ‘Okay, go for it!’ Spock lined up his long digits on Kirk’s temple, cheek and nose. Spock’s face was very close now. Kirk noticed his dark eyes, “gypsy eyes” his great-grandmother would have called them; mysterious, hypnotising, eyes you could fall into forever and ever and ever and…

Kirk was in. Where was this? Beds lining the wall, green and white sheets. It was a hospital. Kirk looked through the window. The Golden Gate Bridge. This was Academy Medical. Kirk fondly remembered bending over and getting hypoed in the ass about twenty times on his third day as a cadet. Immunisations against everything. He’d had one stiff ass cheek for a week. That’s how he’d perfected that rolling strut of his. People thought he was being sexy and dynamic where really he was trying to compensate for a numb bum. So he kept the walk. Made it his trademark. Secrets of the trade. You getting all this, Spock? Spock was.

Wow – he was walking fast now. Oh no, not walking. He was being wheeled on a bed. Kirk looked down at his hand, a tube attached. What was that on his lip? Blood. Green blood.

Spock? Spock?! Mind melds are great.

A doctor bending over him. Hey – he was really good looking. And Spock thought so too. Kirk liked how his friend was in a near coma but could still get a boner for a blond. You really go for blonds, huh Spock? Yes, he does. That’s his type. Hey – they say a man always marries his mother and that’s your mom, Spock: human and blonde. 

‘Okay young man, let’s take a look at you. We’re going to put you to sleep for a while whilst we do this. Count backwards for me please? From ten.’

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five – Spock was doing well. Kirk usually couldn’t make it past sev…

Kirk woke up. His mouth felt dry. Head pounding. Who was this now? Kirk remembered how it seemed like every good-looking person in San Francisco was employed at Starfleet Medical. No wonder cadets got so sick all the time. She was a babe. 

‘Hullo, Spock. I’m Dr Troi. I am a psychiatrist and I’ve been assigned to assist in your recovery…’

Oh, a British accent too! Even sexier. Spock did not like this, though. Quit resisting, mister! You need to talk to someone. Kirk understood that he was a Vulcan and incapable of etc., etc., blah-blah-blah, but Kirk didn’t care. Spock had to get well. He couldn’t carry around all this guilt and bad feeling for the rest of his life under a veneer of logic. And that was precisely what Dr. Troi was explaining now. She was telling him that, in order to live Vulcan philosophy, Spock had to firstly accept who he was right at that moment. Only then would he know where to move to next in his journey towards attaining logic.

She was damn good, this doctor. Really clever at persuading Spock to accept help. She knew just how to explain it to him in his terms. Kirk liked her a lot.

Where were they now? This was a different day. They were sitting up, on a couch in the office. How did Spock keep his back so straight? He needed to teach Kirk posture. Spock felt much…lighter. There was Troi again. Boy – she looked nice with her hair down. Didn’t Spock think so? Not his type? You really are Vulcan. How you can ignore those brown eyes?

What was happening now? So sad! So sad! But…relieved? Kirk’s face was wet. Spock was crying. He was crying but he had learnt how to process it, to control it so that he didn’t become ill. Dr. Troi was hugging him now. Spock – can we stay here a while? What did he mean, Kirk was like “a dog on heat?” Rude, sir. Rude.

Who was this now? He looked serious. Handsome but scary. Wait? Was this Spock’s dad? That was Sarek? Kirk could see the resemblance but Spock definitely took after Amanda more. Amanda is a babe. Yeah, sorry Spock. He would totally do your mom. What was that? Spock would also enjoy being engaged between Winona’s thighs? Well – they were even-stevens, then.

‘Father?’

‘Spock. It has been some time since last we spoke. Is there something you wish to tell me?’

You’re not going tell him what he thinks you’re going to tell him, are you Spock? You’re staying at the Academy and will graduate with the highest honours in your stream.

‘I have called to tell you that I am gay.’

‘You are happy? I knew that this would happen. You have abandoned all of your Vulcan…’

‘No, father. I do not mean gay as in an emotional state of light-heartedness and sporting a carefree attitude. I meant gay as in “I am homosexual”.’

This was massive! Good for you, Spock! And Spock felt good. Justified. Could he also feel how proud Kirk was of him for doing this? Yes, he could feel it.

‘I see…If that is all, I will go now.’

‘That is all, father. Spock out…’

Spock released his grip from Kirk’s face. ‘Mother informs me that Sarek had no issue with my calling him to tell him that I am gay. It is my service to Starfleet that he continues to object to.’

‘Funny old fella,’ Kirk smirked.

‘Yes, quite,’ agreed Spock. He continued: ‘I still have…issues. I will never be reconciled fully to myself. Some days are better than others, but I strive to follow a path of my own making.’

‘And Lisa? You guys must have made things up because I saw you round college with her.’ Kirk winced. That wasn’t a good memory. He had spent a good portion of his Academy days avoiding the famous Vulcan on campus. The day he’d seen the two of them together? It had smacked him straight in the teeth.

‘Indeed. Lisa was the person whom the hospital called. I had struck my mother off as next-of-kin in a fit of pique when she returned home. They established from my fone records that I communicated with Lisa the most. She was a large part of my recovery; of my finally settling in. Thanks to her my second year at the Academy was far easier than the first. She moved in with me after all, as friends only…most of the time.’

‘And you call me the dog? Tsk. What’s she up to now?’

Spock reached down to Kirk’s viewer. ‘May I?’ Spock tapped some buttons, then turned the screen so Kirk could see it. There was a little girl, grinning at him. She was six, maybe - honey-skinned and bright. She held up an examination certificate boasting of the highest marks in her school. Around the photograph, written in digital crayon were the words ‘Uncle Spock’ and a group of hearts and kisses. 

‘She is my god-niece; Lu-Lu. She is going to be a Starfleet scientist when she grows up.’

‘Is she?’ Kirk laughed, ‘I don’t doubt it!’ 

‘Yes. Lisa told me last week that she and Grace are to have another child, a boy this time.’

Kirk sighed. ‘I wish I’d known about all this years’ ago. I should’ve reached out to you, Spock. Said hello at least.’

‘It is illogical to dwell on what did not happen. We can only focus on now.’

‘True,’ Kirk pursed his lips. ‘Besides, if I had contacted you at the Academy, I wouldn’t be here.’

‘Explain,’ said Spock.

Kirk smiled, ‘Well, I’d have fallen hopelessly in love with you again and given up my career amongst the stars to make sure that we could stay together. I’d probably be on Vulcan right now, raising three kids and cooking plomeek soup.’

‘Well,’ said Spock, straightening his back and placing his hands behind him, ‘perhaps it was for the best that we stayed apart.’

Kirk thumbed his nose, ‘Yeah. I got the girl I’m meant for.’ Kirk waved his hand around, indicating his current girlfriend – the Enterprise. 

Kirk held out his hand to the new first officer. ‘Mr. Spock?’

‘Captain.’ 

They shook hands. Spock left.

Kirk looked around his quarters. Some people needed a life-partner, children, the comforts of home and companionship. For Kirk? Life just wasn’t meant to be that way. And that was okay – he had accepted that fact a long time ago. He locked those kinds of ambitions out of his heart and his mind. Life was supposed to be a struggle, because it was only through that struggle that mankind bettered itself. It was Kirk’s role to be the space-hero; to keep exploring ever onwards so that those who wanted love and a family could have it. Kirk was securing a better future for everyone. This was at the sacrifice of his own personal happiness – yes – but by god, it was worth it. 

‘For the lovers!’ he exclaimed, and raised an invisible toast to the universe.

A voice interrupted his reverie. It was Spock. He had returned, momentarily.

‘You know, Jim, you really should have contacted me at the Academy.’ And with that, he turned and left again.

Kirk stood there, open-mouthed and bewildered. Did Spock just...? Did he really just wish that they were together? Still?’

And then Kirk heard it. That laugh in his head; the final giggle he’d heard down on Gamma Cygni Two when Mar’gar opened up the core of his being. He heard her final words: ‘Well, I would never have thought it possible, but there it is.’ 

Suddenly Kirk understood why Mar'gar had left. Why she returned everything to how it was. He knew what she knew. 

‘I…I’m still in love with him,’ he said out loud to – who knows? Mar’gar maybe, or all those lovers he’d toasted moments earlier. ‘I am still…in love with…Spock.’

For a moment, he wasn’t sure what to do. He kind of stepped forward, then lifted his right hand to his head and pushed his hair back. He was so excited that he didn’t know what to do with himself. 

He leapt out of his quarters just in time to see Spock stepping into the turbolift at the far end of the corridor. 

Bang! Kirk was seventeen again. Seventeen years of age and hiding his erection behind a chair because the fucking best looking man in the whole goddamn universe had – by some miracle – dropped into his mom’s kitchen. 

He had loved Spock.

He loved Spock.

He would always love Spock.

 _T’hy’la_.

Mar’gar had discovered that true love really did exist after all.

‘But Spock is with Kelso…’ Yes – Kirk had to respect that. And he would, totally. But if things were to change? 

‘James – he’s different to you. Go slowly.’

Winona was right. She was always right.

‘I’m listening this time, mom. I promise.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"May I inform Mr. Kelso?"_ On their next mission to the edge of the galaxy (ep. Where No Man Has Gone Before), Gary Mitchell (boo-hiss-boo) kills Kelso. Now - this does not mean that Kirk then dances round singing 'Ding-dong, the witch is dead' and picks out drapes for his and Spock's quarters. Quite the opposite. Spock mourns Kelso deeply (they were part-bonded). Due to this and other shenanigans (Leila Konami - awkward!; Edith Keeler - awkward-awkward!; T'Pring - awkward-awkward-awkward!) Spock and Jim don't actually get together until Season 2, during the episode entitled "The Apple".
> 
>  _"Agreed, it does nothing for me"_ I personally have no problem with Spock's look during Where No Man Has Gone Before, but was most surprised to learn during their visits that Spock really didn't like it and Jim detests it. So - we wrote it in.
> 
>  _"Hullo, Spock. I'm Dr Troi"_ No - you eyes are not deceiving you. This is a 23rd century relative of our favourite half Betazoid counsellor - Deanna Troi. She also bears a remarkable resemblance to an actress called Marina Sirtis and sports her natural accent.
> 
>  _"Amanda is a babe."_ In the life of Star Trek, it is blatantly shown that both Kirk and Spock enjoy the "company" of women. And by "company" I mean, of course, "vaginas". Kirk's thing is that he's just a sexy mo-fo. Kirk would mount the whole universe if he could; fuck it into galactic peace and harmony. He is pansexual. Spock on the other hand is homosexual-leaning, but does still go there from time-to-time. Hey! It's the Century 23, man. But love? Being in love? They only have eyes for each other. Everybody say, 'Ah.'
> 
>  _"Winona was right. She was always right."_ When James T. was eight years of age, Winona turned to her husband George and said, 'Our son is gay-gay-gay.' And George was like: 'Are you sure, because I just caught him looking up girl's skirts again in exchange for candy?' And Winona was like: 'WAIT AND SEE.' Sadly, George never got to see Winona's prophecy come true as he died when Jim was thirteen. Winona also started to doubt herself, but that day when Spock stepped off the transporter (she hadn't seen Spock since he was three) she thought, 'You are going to turn my son gay-gay-gay.' And so it came to pass. Winona suffered six weeks of watching Jim trying anything he could to get Spock's attention. Jim - never a boy for keeping his shirt on much, wore so little clothing that her laundry time went down to a quarter of what it once was. She was praying that Spock leave before winter lest her son freeze to death. And the masturbation? Don't get her even started on that. Later, when Spock and Kirk finally got it together, Winona organised the biggest and most gayest wedding that Vulcan has ever seen. Vulcan High Command would like me to dismiss, yet again, the scurrilous rumours that T'Pau was caught dancing to 'You Spin Me Round' on the dance floor at the party afterwards. They would also like me to say that there is no truth to the other T'Pau rumour that she time travelled back to 1980s Earth to fulfil a long-held ambition to have a number one hit single, donning a red wig and penning 'China In Your Hand' in order to do so. NO TRUTH WHATSOEVER THANK YOU. 
> 
> PS - in the televised version of this story, Winona is played by Carol Kane from 'Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt', "Gotham' and countless other shows and films.
> 
> This whole story is in fact the real first episode of Star Trek. But it was so incredibly gay that all of society would have had a nosebleed had it been broadcast. In the future, Kirk and Spock as a couple will be established as canon. And when that day comes, we will know that we have truly progressed and are ready for the future. It is in fact the establishment of Spirk as canon which convinces the Vulcans that we are ready for First Contact, and not Cochrane on his baked bean can warp engine - though that is hecka cool!
> 
> Kirk, Spock and I hope you enjoyed reading their story. I also hope you've enjoyed my mad notes. Starfleet out.


End file.
